Occulto Verum
by Lauren Vork
Summary: My first HP fic, written when I was sixteen. Eh. Mary Sue. Everyone has to write one. I'm not removing it because some people claim to like it. It's about Sirius and a cellist, which is sort of original, I guess.
1. Default Chapter Title

READ THIS FIRST PLEASE: The character of Mathilde Hawkins is my own creation, but all other characters belong to J.K. Rowling and I do not claim them, I just borrow them. This story also contains MAJOR SPOILERS for anyone who hasn't read _Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban_ and minor spoilers for anyone who hasn't read _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire._ Enjoy! Please review! 

Occulto Verum

Mathilde Hawkins waited nervously in the wings of the beautiful orchestra hall, and began to hope that the extensive amounts of sweat on her hands wouldn't cause her bow to fly out of her grasp and take out the eye of some unsuspecting audience member. The orchestra had nearly finished performing the prelude, and before much longer, Mathilde would be sitting right out in the middle of that stage, performing Dvorak's concerto for cello and orchestra. 

_Whether I like it or not. God, what am I doing?_ Mathilde thought, and it was true. There was no backing out now. Performing concertos in college had been nothing like this. There, she had been in her element, completely comfortable with the fact that everyone she played for was impressed by her. For many years now, people had been labeling her using words like "prodigy" and "musical genius", but she had not grown up in the limelight, she worked her way into it as her talents had rapidly developed. As a result, she now loved the attention, and couldn't get enough of it. It was easy to be a child prodigy, but those days were over now. She was no longer a child; she was 23 years old. She was a young, inexperienced musician, surrounded by intimidating senior members of the London Philharmonic. She would be expected to deliver great performances, performances that were just as impressive now that she was a woman as they had been when she was a young girl, and everyone listening had been taking that fact into account. This was her first performance as a major orchestral soloist, very much anticipated by the public. If she choked, if she disappointed them ... 

She made herself stop thinking about it. She closed her eyes, and let the opening bars of Dvorak play beautifully in her mind's ear, forcing herself to focus on the music and only the music... 

God, why did it have to be so damned hot in here anyway? She didn't want to think about what it would feel like under those accursed spotlights! 

The prelude had now ended, and the audience's applause had nearly died. Mathilde unconsciously smoothed her hair and wiped her sweaty hands on her fine black velvet dress as the. The conductor was there now, smiling at her in an encouraging way, patting her on the back to say "good luck." 

And then, they walked onstage together. She threw up her hand confidently to acknowledge the thunderous applause that greeted her, knowing full well that she was the picture of a fully self-assured performer, and that the audience could see no sign of the nervousness that was gripping her. 

The seconds that passed were a blur to her, but the next thing she clearly remembered was the sudden shock that succeeded the conductor's cue to the orchestra as the music began. She was amazed to discover that all of her anxiety was behind her now, and her universe consisted of nothing but the ensemble behind her, her cello, and Dvorak. 

* * * * * * *

At about the same time, Sirius Black was sitting in the front row of that very same concert hall, fidgeting madly. He was no great lover of music, and was beginning to regret allowing his best friend to drag him here. The Muggle clothes he was dressed in were extremely uncomfortable, and he had become quite thoroughly bored with the entire concert-going experience in the middle of the first piece. 

The man seated on his right seemed to be aware of his discomfort. During the applause that followed the first piece on the program, he turned to Sirius. 

"A little bored, are we?" he asked. 

"Oh no, it's not that at all, James," Sirius replied in a friendly, though sarcastic tone. "It's just that I thought it might actually be loads of _fun_ to start counting all the tiles in the ceiling." 

James laughed. "You poor devil. You're just not used to these things, yet. Lily's dragged me to so many of these concerts that they're actually starting to grow on me. In fact, I'm really starting to think that Muggle music is actually the better way to go." 

Sirius nodded. "I'll give you that, James. This certainly sounds better than I remember my grandmother's set of self-playing bagpipes ever sounding. It's not that I don't enjoy the music, not at all. It's just that..." 

"It's just that you've never quite mastered the fine art of sitting still for an hour or so," said the man sitting on Sirius's left. 

"Oh, and you're one to be lecturing _me_ on _my_ attention span, Remus," Sirius replied with a smile, whispering now because the house lights were dimming again in preparation for the next piece. 

Sirius found that his eye was drawn instantly to the young cello soloist who was now preparing to perform. _Perhaps Muggle clothes are good for some things after all_, he thought, taking in the young lady's form-fitting black velvet dress and low cut neckline. She had a pretty good figure for a dress like that, too, he decided. Her honey-blonde hair hung in unruly but attractive curls, framing a fair-skinned face whose lips were curled in a smile that was brighter than all of the spotlights shining on it. But soon, the smile faded and Sirius's favorite aspect of the fine figure in the velvet dress was obscured by the beautifully crafted instrument that was cradled between her knees. 

She began to play. 

Her first notes had a very strange effect on Sirius. He felt gooseflesh begin to form upon his skin almost instantly as her bow first struck the strings beneath it. He couldn't take his eyes off her, and found that he was entranced by the way she moved with the music, as though she were playing the cello with her head, her shoulders, her entire body. Her tone was full of richness and unearthly beauty, and seemed to sound within him, filling him with a profound sense of warmth and peace. It felt just like a phoenix's song; he had never known any other music to affect him like this. 

Unaware of the passage of time, he was surprised when the concerto ended. He had been bracing himself for 45 minutes of excruciating boredom, only to discover that he had enjoyed every moment of this woman's performance. 

The people around him were already standing by the time Sirius emerged from his reverie. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, he pulled himself to his feet beside his companions. 

Remus Lupin turned to him, and, smiling his usual lopsided smile said, "Quite a performance, eh?" 

Sirius nodded dumbly. He was still watching the woman onstage, though it seemed to him that he was doing so more of his own volition now. 

James noticed. "Better stick your eyes back in your head, mate," he said, chuckling, "We haven't much time before Dumbledore'll be expecting us." 

At these words, Lupin's face fell slightly. 

"Ah, yes. Back to the bad news. Oh, well. We should be grateful, I suppose, for a pleasant diversion like that. It was nice to have a break from all the worries." 

Lily Potter was repositioning the sleeping bundle in her arms. She gently returned to infant son to the holster on her back, then turned towards Remus and rested her hand on his shoulder. 

"This won't last forever, all this plotting and hiding and living in fear. It's going to be over soon, Remus. I can feel it." 

The sad smile returned to his face, "I hope you're right, Lily." 

"She usually is," James Potter said. 

* * * * * * 

Mathilde's hands were still shaking by the time she made it off the stage and into the green room, partly from lingering nervousness and partly from excitement. 

"Thank you very much!" she said to her cello, kissing it before returning it to its case. 

She felt marvelous. She couldn't have asked for a better performance. She wanted to do it again. But first, she wanted to run squealing through the orchestra hall hugging everyone she met. 

_They loved me, they loved me!_ she thought, _ It was perfect and they loved me, and...what on earth am I going to do with all of these flowers?_

The green room was full of bouquets, most of which had been delivered before the performance. She had received a few arrangements from strangers, much to her while she was still onstage, much to her amazement, but most of the ones here had been sent to her by the expected assortment of friends and family, everyone from cousins to her very first cello teacher. This didn't lessen her pleasure in receiving them at all, and while it certainly would have been quite flattering to receive all of these gifts from, oh, say, some tall, dark strangers, she was grateful to have such supportive and proud loved ones standing behind her. 

She did, however, have one large bunch of blue forget-me-nots that had indeed been tossed to her by a tall, dark stranger. He'd been seated the front row, and had been applauding her so enthusiastically that Mathilde couldn't help but notice him. They'd made eye contact for a moment, and in that moment, he'd suddenly tossed her these. Quite suddenly, in fact; she could almost have sworn that he'd produced them out of thin air. 

She was pulled out of her post-concert ecstasy and into thoughts of this compelling, dark, stranger. They'd made eye-contact, he'd thrown her flowers. Well, it was the perfect start to a cheesy dime-store romance, at any rate. 

She found herself hoping that he would appear amidst the crowd of well-wishers who appeared in the green room a few minutes later to offer praise and congratulations, but there was no sign of him. 

_Foolish of me to expect my life to be that interesting_ she thought afterwards. 

* * *

"Professor Dumbledore!" Lily Potter cried, running after the silver-haired old man, "Professor, wait!" 

Albus Dumbledore stopped, and turned to face the short, red haired woman who was hustling towards him, hoisting the straps of the harness on her back further up on her shoulders. 

"Lily. Good to see you!" Dumbledore said with a bright smile, "and hello, Harry," he added to the curious youngster as he tried to climb on top of Lily's shoulder to gain a better view of the goings-on. 

"I suppose James and company are trailing along behind? Ah, here they are!" 

James Potter, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black had just turned the corner into the alley. They were jogging, and slowed to a halt beside Lilly, all of them breathing heavily. 

"Hello, Professor," James said, "I don't know what happened. We were looking for you in front of the concert hall, then Lily started shouting to you, and just took off like a flash after you. Left us all in the dust." 

"I don't care how big Harry here is getting," said Sirius, "he can't slow down ol' Lil." 

Lily smiled at him, and tugged on the shoulder strap of Harry's harness again. 

"Lily," said Sirius, in a hopeful tone of voice, "Is your back getting sore? If you're getting tired at all, I can take Harry for a while." 

Lily understood him 

"My back is just fine, Sirius," she said softly, "but you may take Harry." 

There was no mistaking the look of bright elation of Sirius's face as he lifted Harry out of the holster. Harry let out a gleeful chortle of recognition and buried his tiny fists in Sirius's hair. 

"Oh!" Lily cried, giggling slightly, "No, Harry! Sirius, you don't have to let him do that." 

Sirius was still smiling, his head inclined to one side as Harry pulled. 

"Whatever makes him happy, Lily. I'm more than pleased to oblige. Ah!" he added involuntarily as Harry give an extra-enthusiastic tug, "he's getting strong, this one!" 

"No, Harry. Ouch. Let go, sweetie," Lily said to her son, gently taking hold of his small hands and rescuing his godfather from their grip. The child seemed to understand his mother's commands and relented without protest. 

"We should get down to business soon," Remus suggested, "Were you planning that we discuss these matters here?" he inquired of Dumbledore. 

The question was in earnest. The wide alley behind the orchestra hall with its bright street lamps and pristine sidewalks seemed, as far as Lupin was concerned, a strange place to discuss their private business, but it that was what Dumbledore had planned, none of them were about to question him. 

But Dumbledore said, "Dear me, no. Not here. We'll go somewhere more private in a moment. I'm just here to congratulate the woman of the evening on a spectacular performance. Miss Mathilde Hawkins has come quite a long way since her first conservatory performance." 

"I'm glad Lily dragged us along after all," said James, "It sure was something, eh, Sirius?" 

But Sirius didn't answer. He was urgently searching every inner pocket of his sport coat, looking for his concert program. 

"What did you say her name was?" he asked, his voice incredulous. 

"Mathilde Hawkins," Lily replied. 

Sirius had found his program, and was now leafing through it, searching for Mathilde's biography. 

"Why, Sirius?" James asked. 

Sirius looked up at his friends. 

"Don't you remember?" 

* * *

Mathilde emerged from the concert hall a good forty-five minutes after the concert had ended. She'd spent what she felt was a reasonable amount of time chatting with people in the green room and at the reception, but now she was feeling tired and wanted nothing more than to go home with this wonderful evening still buzzing in her mind, and to go to sleep thinking of it. 

The evening had other plans in store for her, though. Waiting for her just outside the stage door was a very curious looking old man. He was tall and thin with long, silver hair and a matching beard. The blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles twinkled with a cheeriness that matched the bright smile on his careworn face. The instant she had stepped out, he bounded up to her and clasped her right hand in both of his, pumping it furiously up and down. 

"Fabulous!" he cried, "Absolutely incredible. I don't believe I've ever heard Dvorak played quite so...ah, _magically_ before." The man's pale blue eyes seemed to be telling her, in no uncertain terms, that he knew something that she didn't. 

"Why...why, thank you," Mathilde replied. She was pleased as always to be so appreciated and admired, but her face still displayed a reasonable amount of bewilderment and surprise at being so accosted by a stranger. 

"Ah, my manners! Forgive me," he said, reading her expression, "my name is Albus Dumbledore, Miss Hawkins. I'm a great admirer of music, and have been following your career for some time now. I'm greatly impressed with the progress you've made. Tell me, are you happy with your choice?" 

"My choice?" 

"To be a musician. To devote your life to your art?" 

Mathilde couldn't help but think that there was something behind this question. It was a perfectly normal conversational question, and she'd answered it many times before, but Albus Dumbledore almost seemed to have a genuine and personal interest in her answer, not just a conversational one. 

Taken aback though she was, Mathilde was far from uncomfortable; she was merely curious. 

"Yes. Yes, I am. I'm very happy with it. I can't imagine spending my life doing anything else." 

Dumbledore's smile grew brighter. 

There was a thick silence for a moment before Mathilde felt her right hand being gripped in a handshake by a third person. Her eyes were torn away from the curious old man and her attention drawn to the fact that this man appeared to have brought a few friends with him. 

There were three, no, four people in the alley besides Albus Dumbledore. A pretty young woman with long, red hair, carrying a sleeping infant in her arms, a tall man with glasses and untidy black hair beside her, another young man with a kind, though tired-looking face, and the man shaking her hand...she recognized him as the stranger in the front row who had thrown her the flowers! 

"You play beautifully," he said to her, "I'm very glad I came...I, um, didn't really want to," he admitted with a laugh. "I'm not really a music lover. But I loved that." 

Mathilde was stunned. "Thank you." 

This man's voice was also thick with deeper meaning, as though there was more importance in what he was communicating than the mere words themselves, as though he had something he wished to tell her which normal social protocol forbade. 

Perhaps he merely fancied her? It seemed that it was something more than a base attraction, though. In fact, she had the oddest strangest feeling that she already knew this stranger; he seemed so familiar to her, and she felt at ease with him. Come to think of it, they _all_ seemed familiar to her in some unconscious way. She didn't want them to walk away from this alley and still be strangers to her. She didn't want _him_ to walk away. 

Dumbledore had left her alone with the handsome, dark-haired man now. He was speaking to his other three companions, and gave the appearance of having taken a sudden interest in the architecture of the buildings around them. This was her chance. 

"Thank you," she said again. "Oh, and thank you very much for those flowers. I saw you throw them to me. They're one of my favorite kinds," she lied. She did like the forget-me-nots well enough, but, truth be told, she really didn't know a mum from a gladiola and didn't care one way or the other, either. 

"I'm glad you liked them," he said. 

"I'm glad _you_ liked my playing that much," she said, " I was really nervous tonight. It was my first time as a full-fledged professional. Trouble is, I've already got a reputation. People were expecting a lot of me, I think." 

"Really?" he asked, as though he was interested in what she had to say, but could offer no more of an intelligent commentary than that. 

"Oh yes," she said, "I was a bit of a star at my school, won a lot of competitions and things. It's nice, I guess, to be given recognition and wonderful to have chances to perform...but it's a little stressful when people start believing you're perfect or something, and you know you're not and you're afraid you might prove them wrong at any moment." 

"I can imagine," he said. 

"And I started going to the Paris Conservatory when I was thirteen, and that in itself is enough to make some heads turn," she shook her head, "Sometimes it's all a bit much, to tell the truth," then she laughed nervously, "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm unburdening myself on you, a complete stranger!" 

"Oh, no! It's perfectly all right," he said quickly, "It's interesting, actually. So...you say you went to the Conservatory when you were thirteen. Where'd you go to school before that?" His tone was casual once again. 

"Well, my parents home schooled me until I was eleven, and then I went to a public school for two years," (she could have sworn she saw him react to this) "but the funny thing is I don't remember it." 

"You...you don't? Why not?" 

"During the summer when I was thirteen, I got in a car accident," she said, and pointed to a small scar on her forehead, "I got this. Nasty knock on the head. I don't remember the car accident either, because the first thing I remember after that is sitting on the couch of our sitting room with my parents and not knowing where I was. I had forgotten everything that had happened to me since the summer when I was eleven! It's the strangest thing. One moment, I was eleven years old, sitting in my bedroom watching this brown owl land outside the window, and the next moment, I was in the sitting-room, wondering where we'd gotten this new couch from and being told that I was now thirteen years old." 

The man looked stunned. "Really?" 

"Yes," she said, then laughed, "The really funny thing is, the thing that worried me the most was what had happened to that poor owl? That was the last thing I remembered, you see. The owl had something stuck to its leg, I think, and I was really worried about it. Now I'll never know he fared, I guess." 

He still looked stunned. 

"Pretty incredible, huh?" she said, "But you haven't told me anything about yourself. Where did you go to school?" 

"Oh! Um...a little place in the middle of nowhere. Not very well-known at all. Very old. By the way," he said, and seemed to be trying to change the subject, "I still have the advantage of you. I haven't introduced myself. My name is Sirius." 

She smiled, but suddenly her expression was distant. 

"I think," she said, "I think...I knew a boy named Sirius when I was at school." 

"Really?" he said softly, "What was he like?" 

The distant look left her face, and she seemed to return to the present. She shrugged. 

"No idea," she said, "Listen, I was just about to go and get a cup of coffee or something, there's a nice little cafe just down the road. Would you and your friends like to join me?" 

"I'd like that," he said, "but I'm afraid we have some private matters to discuss. That's why we're meeting." 

"Oh," she said, sounding disappointed. 

"But..." he said, and ran a hand nervously through his hair, "maybe...would you like to meet me for lunch tomorrow? If it's convenient, I mean, if it's not too far to come. Do you live in London?" 

"Er, no." Damn. "No, I live in Godric's Hollow, but..." she thought fast, "I was... planning on returning tomorrow to do some shopping, and... I'd love to have lunch." 


	2. Default Chapter Title

Occulto Verum - Part 2

_Mathilde ran towards the entrance to Gryffindor house as fast as she could while lugging her bulky cello along with her. She had half a mind to just drop it where she was and bolt to the portrait hole so that no one would have a chance to see the tears on her face...but she didn't want to think of what the Slytherin boys would do to her precious instrument if she just left if sitting in the corridor. _

Finally, she made it to the portrait...but the Fat Lady was gone, off visiting the other paintings. Mathilde dropped her cello case, sat on top of it and buried her face in her hands. 

It was too much. Why was fate so cruel to her that she couldn't even be allowed to hide, to preserve some shred of her dignity when she was this miserable? She couldn't hold it back any more...she began to sob. 

"Mathilde?" 

Sirius Black was standing in front of her. She hadn't heard him coming. 

Why did it have to be Sirius? Of all the people to find her like this, why did it have to be him, when he was the last person in the world she wanted to have see her crying? She wiped her face on the sleeve of her robe as quickly as she could and flashed Sirius the brightest smile she could fake. 

"Hi Sirius." 

"Mathilde, what's wrong?" 

"Nothing Sirius. I'm just waiting for the Fat Lady to come back..." 

"You're crying." 

"No I'm not, I-" 

"Yes you are," Sirius said. He set down his bag of books and sat down on the cello case next to her. "What happened?" 

"It's nothing, Sirius." 

"Mathilde," he said, "you're not the kind of girl who starts crying just because she can't get into Gryffindor tower to put her cello away. Tell me what happened." 

Mathilde took in a deep, shuddering breath. 

"If I tell you," she said, "I'll just start crying again." 

"Then start crying again. It's okay," he said, "Go ahead. I'll hex anyone who teases you for it, I swear. C'mon." 

"No." 

"C'mon," he wheedled, "Tell Sirius what's wrong. 'Cuz if you don't tell him," he added, shaking his index finger at Mathilde, "he's going to sit on your cello case forever, and you'll never be able to practice again." 

This managed to draw a smile from her. "All right. It was Snape." 

Sirius emitted a low, wordless growl of rage. 

"I was just practicing in an empty classroom. I was just minding my own business, why'd he have to come and bother me? He came in, told me he'd been listening outside the door. He said I sounded so great that he wanted my autograph. I knew he was up to something, but he said he wouldn't leave until I signed his parchment, so I did it. Then all of his friends came inside the room...they...they'd been watching from outside. Severus held up the paper and showed me all the stuff he'd written on it in invisible ink. I'd just signed a paper agreeing that I was... 'The greatest double loser Hogwarts has ever seen- a Mudblood and _a Squib.'" She started to cry again. "To top it off, they jinxed the pen, too." _

She held out her hand to Sirius, and he saw that the palm was red and raw, as though it had been burnt. 

"The greasy, slimy, little snake," Sirius snarled, "I'll get him for this. He'll pay. I'll pound his pointy nose in...just let me at him..." 

He started to stand up, but stopped when Mathilde began to cry again. 

"But he's right," she said, "I'm as magical as Filch. It took me two months to learn how to turn a match stick into a needle, remember?" She continued to sob. Sirius placed an arm around her shoulders. 

"I shouldn't be here, Sirius," she said, "I'm less than half a witch. I can only hide it for so long with all my studying and practicing. There's hardly any magic in me at all. I'm worthless." 

She continued to sob. Sirius sighed very deeply and squeezed her shoulders. 

"Now, you listen to me," he said sternly, "Maybe you're right. Maybe there isn't much magic in you. But that does not make you worthless, I don't care what Severus Snape and his gang think. You're smarter than all the Slytherins put together, you know that. You're a smashing musician - why d'you think Dumbledore likes you so much? - and...and...and you're the prettiest girl Gryffindor's got," he added very quickly. 

"Really?" 

"Yah. Really," he said, though his face was now slightly pink. "I'd want to be your friend even if you were a complete Muggle." 

BEEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEEP! BEEEEEEEEEP! 

Mathilde struck the top of her alarm clock with a blow that was so hard it seemed to actually be a vengeful one. Stupid thing. She'd been having such a wonderful dream, too. What was it? She remembered herself...young...and a boy...he was comforting her. Why? Others had been teasing her...She struggled to remember more, but it was slipping away from her more rapidly with each effort she made to grasp a part of. 

Why on earth had she even bothered to set the blasted alarm clock anyway? She was done with rehearsals for the time being, and should have allowed herself to sleep in. 

Then she remembered - a lunch date with her dark stranger. She had to drive into London in time to meet him, and that's why she was up so early. 

With this thought, she bounded cheerfully out of bed, utterly delighted with the prospect of seeing Sirius again. 

Sirius...the name echoed through her head...Sirius....the boy in her dream had been named Sirius, hadn't he? And last night, she'd had a notion that she'd gone to school with a boy named Sirius. Was her dream a memory, then? A vision from the two years she'd lost? She strained to recall more of it. Her cello....she was sitting on it...boys had been teasing her...Sirius had black hair... 

That was all. She shook her head. Perhaps more would come back to her later. Right now, she had a date to get ready for. 

* * * * * * *

"Do you remember the time she got hit by the Whomping Willow?" Sirius inquired of James. 

"Yes," said James soberly, "she was going in after Remus. Trying to figure out what was wrong with him." 

"That's right," said Sirius, "She still has the scar from that crack on the head the Willow gave her, only she says it's from a car accident! Says she got amnesia and forgot two years- the two years that we knew her!" 

"I don't believe it," James said softly. 

"It's amazing, isn't it? You know what this means, don't you?" 

James shook his head. 

"It means," said Sirius, lowering his voice, "that they took her memory away. She didn't stop writing to us of her own accord, she forgot who we were." 

"Wow," breathed James, "they sure don't do anything by halves over there, do they?" 

"No," said Sirius, "and they won't let Hogwarts do it either." 

The two men said nothing for a moment. The just mused over these facts in silence. Then James spoke. 

"So," he said, "are you going to tell her?" 

Sirius frowned in concentration for a moment. "I don't know. Not today, at any rate." 

"Don't you think you should? I mean, are you planning on getting involved with this woman?" 

"I don't know about that, either." 

James smiled at him. "Oh, come on, Sirius. She was your girl at Hogwarts. Everyone knew that. Even if you two wouldn't admit it." 

Sirius shook his head. "That's not what I mean," his voice dropped to a whisper, "It's Voldemort. This Fidelius charm. She could be put in danger. She might be safer if she never finds out about our world." 

James sighed deeply. 

"But then you'll never know what you missed out on, old friend. She's an extraordinary person, I can see that right now. And you must want something to do with her, or you wouldn't have invited her to lunch." 

Sirius suddenly looked at his watch. "Speaking of which, she'll be here any minute." James nodded, stood up and started to make his way to the door of the cafe, but Sirius grasped his arm to stop him. 

"You're right James," he said, "I do want something to do with her. I'm just afraid. It's bad enough that you and Lily are in such danger. The more people I can keep protected from Voldemort, the better." 

James sat down again. "Listen to me, Sirius. You wouldn't be in any danger at all from Voldemort if you weren't willing to stand between him and us, would you? I mean, if you didn't care about the two of us. I mean...if people don't care about each other, it's a lot less dangerous, isn't it? But at what cost, Sirius?" 

Sirius was silent. James began to stand up again. 

"Be careful, but listen to your heart. Let _her_ choose the danger if she wants it. Good luck, old friend," he said, and squeezed Sirius's shoulder on his way to the door. 


	3. Default Chapter Title

Occulto Verum - Part 3

Sirius felt a tap on his left shoulder, and turned around to see...no one behind him. Bewildered, he returned his gaze to the empty chair opposite him at the table, only to see Mathilde sidling into it, a mischievous grin on her face. 

"That's one of the oldest jokes in the book. I can't believe you fell for it." 

"Huh?" 

She was wearing sporty-looking day clothes now. Her blond hair was tied back in a more casual ponytail, and her gray-blue eyes shone impishly at him. 

"The old tap-the-opposite-opposite-shoulder-and-then-run-away trick," she said, "are you the gullible type? With stupid jokes and the like, I mean." 

He smiled at her. "Sometimes. How about you?" 

"Sometimes too. Usually, though, I tend to be gullible about more important things." 

"Like what?" 

"Well, I'll let myself be talked into having lunch alone with a chap I know nothing about just because he's good-looking, for starters." 

Sirius laughed. "Well, thank you," he said, "and that doesn't make you gullible, it makes you adventurous." 

"I like to think so sometimes. Well, tell me something about yourself." 

"About me? Like what?" 

She shrugged. "I don't know. Your last name, for starters. 

"Black." 

She raised her eyebrows as though impressed. "So, Sirius Black, then? Did all of your brothers and sisters have such interesting names?" 

"I'm an only child, actually." 

She nodded, knowingly. "You learn so much about a person based on that kind of information. Siblings and whatnot, I mean. I'm the eldest, myself. Have two little brothers. I'm the only musician in my family, though." 

"Were you close to your family?" 

They ended up staying in the cafe for well over two hours, talking. They barely touched their lunches, they were so engrossed in conversation with each other. Eventually, Mathilde noticed that their waiter was giving them dirtier looks each time he refilled their water glasses, and pointed this fact out to Sirius. 

"So? What's his problem?" Sirius said. 

"Well, we paid our bill about an hour ago," Mathilde giggled. "I don't think that's the sort of customer behavior that they really approve of." 

"Well then, let's go somewhere else, shall we?" 

"Um...okay, where?" 

"I don't know," he said, standing up and pushing his chair in, "you know your way around London better than I do. You make the call." 

She shrugged, "I'm afraid I don't know much about London's best hot spots, to tell the truth." 

"Then we can just wander aimlessly for a bit. Would you like that?" 

She smiled at him. "Yes. I would." 

* * * * * 

It was _very_ aimless wandering, for neither of them had any type of a destination in mind, nor felt the need for one. They'd left Mathilde's car at the cafe, preferring to walk outside and enjoy the sunny day. The spent most of their time looking for places to sit and talk to each other, and much of the rest of the time trying to escape from the heat. They took a trolley to the West End and idly explored a few quaint shops, including a blown-glass trinket store where Mathilde purchased a delicate unicorn figurine. 

"It's got purple hair," Sirius complained, examining the tiny keepsake in the sunlight outside of the shop, "and a horse's tail. And it _ought_ to have cloven hooves." 

She smiled at him, amused, and snatched the figurine back from him. 

"I happen to think it's quite beautiful, thank you very much," she said, placing the glass unicorn back in its box and popping it into her handbag. 

"Well, it's nice enough, I suppose, but it's not very accurate, now is it?" he argued. 

"Accurate? So, you've met a lot of unicorns, then?" 

He grinned at her. "Dozens." 

The evening found them in Hyde Park, sitting on a hillside and watching the sun set while eating from cardboard cartons of Chinese food that sat in their laps. 

"'You will find great happiness with a forgotten lover'," Mathilde was saying. She was reciting from the slip of paper she'd found in her fortune cookie. "Huh. Well, that does it then, Sirius," she said to him, "You might as well give up on me now, because one of my old French boyfriends from my conservatory days is going to come find me and sweep me off my feet any day now." 

She crumpled up the slip of paper and threw it at him. It bounced of his forehead and into the grass beside him. 

"You think so?" 

"Oh, I know so," she said, "the cookie wouldn't lie to me." 

He set down the empty rice carton he was holding and moved so that he was sitting closer to her. 

"Then...I've no chance at all?" 

"Nope," she replied, "none whatsoever." She lifted her head so that her face was closer to his. "And if you try to kiss me, you'll be mocking the Fates. It'll turn out very nasty for you in the end." 

He smiled at her. "Let's be adventurous." 

"Well..."she frowned in mock indecision, "if you put it that way...all right then!" 

He kissed her. He embraced her, pulling her against him so closely that it seemed he feared he would lose her again if he let go. He continued to hold her to him even when the kiss ended, her head resting beneath his chin, in the curve of his neck. 

She sighed contentedly, unable to see the look of consternation on Sirius's face. His mind was spinning. Now he'd gone and done it, hadn't he? He was in love with her, and there'd be no turning back. How was he going to protect her now? 

_Calm down, calm down,_ he told himself, _you've kissed her, that's all. Voldemort's spies aren't going to have her number just because of that. _

"Look, Sirius, there's your namesake!" 

"Huh?" 

She was pointing at the sky where the sun had finished its descent below the horizon and the stars were beginning to show. 

"The Dogstar," she said, "Were you named after that star?" 

"You know, I honestly have no idea," he said softly. 

"It's just that it's such an unusual name that I can't imagine where else it might've come from. Of course..." she said thoughtfully, "I _did_ know that boy named Sirius when I was a schoolgirl, so perhaps it's not _that_ unusual. I had a dream about him last night, you know." 

"I thought you said you didn't remember anything from your school days." He sounded puzzled. 

"I don't....really," she said, "but every now and then, I have these sorts of flashbacks...or dreams. When I'm reminded of things, I suppose." 

"Really..." he breathed. 

She laughed at him. "There's no need to pretend it's so interesting, Sirius. I mean, it was all very tragic and difficult to deal with when I was thirteen, but a lot of time has passed since then, and I realize now that if I had to forget two years of my life, the years between when I was eleven and when I was thirteen were probably the least important." 

_That's ironic_, Sirius thought. 

"I do think it's interesting, though," he protested, "what sorts of things do you remember?" 

She shrugged. "Some odd images. I remember the place I went to school had these old, gray stone walls. I also remember a girl with red hair who kept a white kitten...and this boy with a pointy noise and greasy hair." She frowned for a moment. "I don't think I liked him very much," she added. "That's not all, though. Some of it's...strange." 

"How strange?" 

She swallowed. "Very strange." The look on her face told Sirius that she was unwilling to go into it, but he persisted. 

"You can tell me. I'll bet I've heard stranger stuff before. I won't tease you for it, I swear it." 

_"I'll hex anyone who teases you for it, I swear."_

She started, turned her head very quickly and stared at him, shocked. 

"What? Did I say something wrong." 

She shook her head a little and the shocked expression melted away. "Nothing. I'm sorry. Anyway, these strange things..." She closed her eyes for a moment, concentrating. "I remember...getting smacked in the head by a tree branch, and then looking at my forehead in a mirror and seeing this fresh cut bleeding where it had hit me," she said, pointing to the pink line near her left temple, "Only that doesn't make sense, because I got this from a car accident. I also remember sleeping in a big four-poster bed, but that doesn't make sense either, because it was a public school, not a boarding school. And I remember..." 

But she trailed off in mid-sentence. 

"What do you remember?" asked Sirius after a moment's silence passed between them. 

"This is the really crazy part..." 

"Go on," he whispered. 

She closed her eyes tightly for a moment before beginning to speak, and when she did, it was in a whisper, "I remember...these dark rooms that looked like dungeons...they even had torches burning in them...everyone - even children - dressed in black robes...people _flying_ around on...on _broomsticks_...and a woman transforming herself into a tabby cat." 

She shook her head. Sirius cupped her chin gently in his right hand and looked into her eyes. 

"Do you believe that these things you remember really happened?" he asked somberly. 

She laughed brightly. 

"What?" 

She smiled at him. "Sirius, you have the look of a man who's terrified that the woman he's getting involved with is actually a lunatic. No, of course I don't believe that those things really happened. It's just that..." 

A pause. "What?" 

"It's just that I wonder what it all means. Maybe it means I'm loopy. I am a musician, after all." 

A lazy smile crept across Sirius's face. "Well, then," he said, "now I know what I've been looking for all this time; a girl who's nuts." 

She smiled back at him, inching her face closer to his. "Well, thank you." 

She kissed him again, and allowed herself to be absorbed, without regret, into the world that consisted of nothing but the two of them. 


	4. Default Chapter Title

Occulto Verum - Part 4

__

"Chocolate frog," Mathilde said to the great stone gargoyle that blocked the entrance to the headmaster's office. It leapt obediently to one side, allowing her admittance. 

Mathilde was one of the few students who knew the password to Dumbledore's office. He had long ago given her an open-ended invitation to visit him and talk music with him if she ever felt like it, saying that he understood how frustrated she might get with no one at Hogwarts to discuss her craft with. She, however, knew that he had taken pity on her because she had no friends. 

She had taken advantage of his offer frequently in her first year, but this year, Sirius Black and his friends, James, Remus, Lily, and Peter had accepted her into their crowd, and Mathilde spent most of her time with them. She loved her new friends, and enjoyed the time she spent with them more than anything, but still her life was unfulfilled. 

And that was why she was going to the headmaster now. This would be her last time in his office. 

She knocked on his door. "Professor Dumbledore?" 

The door opened magically before her. "Good morning, Mathilde. Come in. Are you finished packing yet? The train should be here shortly." 

She entered the room and sat down. 

"Yes, sir, I'm all ready to go. I'm afraid I have some bad news." 

Dumbledore looked at her sadly, as though he knew what was coming. 

"Professor, I've withdrawn from Hogwarts." 

Dumbledore looked at her for a moment without saying anything, then sighed very deeply. 

"Are you certain that you're making the right choice?" he asked. 

"Yes," Mathilde said calmly, "I'm very certain. I know, I don't even need to tell you about it. After all, it's my choice, and I've just taken care of everything with Professor McGonagall, but...I wanted to explain myself to you, sir." 

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "Thank you, Mathilde." 

She continued, "I guess I just don't think that this is the right place for me. I'm not much of a witch. I mean, I know my grades are all right, but that's just because I work so hard on written work and studying books and things...it makes up for the fact that I have so little magical ability." 

"I just keep thinking about my future," she went on, " and I know I could make it in the magical world. I could be the best filing clerk the Ministry of Magic's ever seen, or something. There's lots of jobs in the magical community that I wouldn't need to be a very good witch in order to do, and I could get on all right. But the truth is...I don't want to just get on all right, I want to make something out of myself, and before I came to Hogwarts, I knew how I was going to do it. 

Dumbledore nodded very slowly. "Your cello," he guessed. 

"Yes," said Mathilde, "my cello. I don't mean to seem full of myself, but...I know I've really got something as a musician, and that's what I want to do. I want to go back to the Muggle world, and go back to studying cello. And before I go, I just want to thank you for everything you've done for me. I hope you understand." 

"I do," he said soberly. He got up out of his chair and paced slowly to the window. Looking through the glass, out at the Hogwarts grounds, he said, "I do understand. I think you've chosen wisely, Mathilde, even if you do underestimate your skills as a witch. I'm just sorry you've had to waste two valuable years here." 

"Oh, no!" she said suddenly, "I'm glad I came for this time. I don't regret these two years at all." 

Dumbledore turned to face her again, this time their was a sad smile on his face. 

"I'll miss having another music-lover around to talk to. Good luck to you, Mathilde. You have a bright career ahead of you, I'm certain. You'd better get going now." 

She nodded, stood up, and made her way to the door. Before she had taken two steps, Dumbledore had extended his hand to her. She took it and shook it warmly before leaving to board the Hogwarts Express. 

Mathilde leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to stop her head from spinning. She'd never had a flashback like that before, one so complete, so vivid. It made her dizzy. 

Dumbledore...that was the same man she'd met after her concert! He'd been the headmaster of her school, and _that's_ why he was interested in her career - he'd known her when she was younger! 

Why had her parents lied to her? She wished she could ask them now; but they had died long before she'd ever started to have these strange flashbacks. 

And why...why did she remember herself talking to Dumbledore about..._magic_? About witchcraft? Why did she remember a school that taught magic and had people transforming into cats and flying on broomsticks? Was she really and truly going insane? 

No._ Albus Dumbledore is real,_ she told herself, _he's real and he's the only person who can help me find some answers. _

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of an engine roaring to a halt somewhere on the street in front of her house. She looked out the nearest window to see Sirius Black dismounting an enormous black motorcycle and heading up the path to her front door, right on time. 

Should she tell Sirius what she had just remembered? Perhaps he also remembered the white-haired old man that she'd met on the night of her concert. She barely knew him though; what if he thought she was crazy? No, she'd wait to tell Sirius, she decided, wait until she'd gotten to know him better. 

The doorbell rang. She went to the front door and opened it, smiling brightly. 

"Hello, Sirius! How...." her greeting died on her lips and her smile faded away when she saw the dark expression on Sirius's brow. 

"Mathilde," he said, "I've made a terrible mistake." 

"What?" she gasped, horrified. 

"Yesterday," he explained, "Yesterday was a mistake, and I can't see you anymore." 

"_What?_" she cried, now furious. 

"Mathilde, I'm so sorry, I didn't -" 

"I trusted you!" she shouted, cutting him off, "I fell in love with you, for God's sake! What the hell are you telling me?" 

"It's not what you think!" he shouted, desperate to make himself heard, "I want to keep seeing you, but I can't. It's not my choice. It's something I can't control." 

This seemed to take the edge off her anger. She glared at him, her arms folded resolutely across her chest, but didn't say anything. 

He ruffled a hand through his hair nervously. "I'm in danger," he said softly, "and if you're with me, you'll be in danger, too." 

Her expression softened to one of confusion. 

"Danger? What are you talking about, Sirius?" 

"I can't tell you..." 

"Why the hell not?" she demanded. 

"Because that could cause enough trouble for you." 

She let her breath out in an indignant snort. "What? Are you a criminal, Sirius? Is that it? Are the police after you?" 

He shook his head no. "This is something beyond the law, Mathilde," he said gently, "I would tell you if I could. I would never have gotten involved with you if I'd realized how dangerous this...this situation I'm in was going to be. Please believe me. I don't want you to hate me for this." 

He reached out a hand to touch her face, and she didn't pull away. 

"Mathilde.." 

"Please, Sirius," she whispered, "just tell me. Let me decide if it's too dangerous." 

He said nothing. 

"Please," she said again, "I've only known you for a day, but I trust you. I feel like I've known you all my life...I've never felt this way about anyone. I think I'm meant to be with you, Sirius, and whatever this is, let me face it with you." 

Sirius was still silent. The words James had spoken to him flitted through his head; "Let her chose the danger if she wants it." Hadn't she done just that? 

But she doesn't know, said a voice in his head, she doesn't know what kind of danger she'd be facing in our world. She doesn't know that she could be murdered with a gesture, or be driven insane with a single curse, or have her soul sucked out of her body through her mouth. 

Finally, he shook his head at her. "No. You don't know what you'd be getting yourself into. But I swear to you," he said, gently placing a finger over her lips to silence her now half-hearted protests, "that if I come out of this all right, I will return to you and share everything with you." 

She was now more confused than ever. "Who are you, Sirius?" she uttered, her voice choked. 

"Just some crazy guy who really loves you, Mathilde," he said, and gave her a quick, gentle kiss. He turned around, started to leave. 

Something in Mathilde's brain snapped. Finally, she made the connection...his hands...his eyes...his voice... 

"You're the boy I went to school with," she said. 

Sirius stopped, and turned to her again. 

"Aren't you," she said. It wasn't a question. 

For a moment, Sirius did nothing. Then, very slowly, he nodded. 

Mathilde knew it would be pointless to ask for any more information. She just watched him go, watched him mount that huge motorcycle and drive away, just a speck of light in the distance...then he was gone. 

"Stupid bastard," she said out loud, but without much conviction,"thinks I can't handle a little trouble." 

She sighed. She felt more confused and unhappy than ever. 

So, Sirius had something to do with this strange place she kept remembering images of. What on earth did it all mean? 

Her head was pounding. It hurt. Well, at least that gave her something to do, and she started to make her way to the kitchen to get some aspirin. 

She hadn't taken more than two steps, though, before she started to feel extremely dizzy. She was losing her balance, and had to sit down on the floor to prevent herself falling over. She squeezed her eyes shut. 

She was having another flashback. 


	5. Default Chapter Title

AUTHOR'S NOTE: There's probably some misspellings here. How do you spell Archemides? And I just realized that I'm going to have to change Mathilde's age to 23 so that all the details work out, but I can't do that right now because I'm away from my home computer and visiting relatives for a week - that's also why this part was delayed so much. Anyway, enjoy! 

Occulto Verum - Part 5

Sirius floored the motorbike, unable to remember when he'd ever felt this miserable. 

_And I've just gone and made her miserable too,_ he thought bitterly._ I'm gonna go and get myself killed pretty soon, and I couldn't just leave things be, I had to make a wonderful person like her feel wretched first. _

Unbidden, his thoughts drifted away from Mathilde and towards the bleak future. His responsibility... 

Had James and Lily made the right choice? He began to wonder if perhaps Dumbledore should have been their secret-keeper...Dumbledore certainly had enough on his plate with the rise of Voldemort and all these dark wizards...but would he have been a more reliable secret-keeper than Sirius? 

He certainly didn't want to fail, but...he doubted himself. Oh, he would die for James, in an instant, with no hesitation, but it wasn't death he feared. 

He had seen the types of things Voldemort and his Death Eaters did to the people they interrogated. He knew that the terror inspired by the Dark Lord's presence was so great that the mention of his name was enough to give someone a taste of it. Voldemort was soulless, ruthless, and could make you wish you had never been born... 

Yet, there was no terror, no torture so terrible that Sirius would not bear it for James. If only it was as simple as saying "yes" or "no" to it...but it wasn't. 

When it happened...when Voldemort came to him, what if his nerve failed him? What if he simply couldn't hold out? If he told Voldemort where to find the Potters, and they died...how would he ever live with himself? How could he ever face anyone ever again? 

Accompanied by these disturbing thoughts, Sirius Black sped on into the night. 

* * * * 

__

"Mathilde, come downstairs. There's someone here to talk to you." 

Her father's voice interrupted her in the middle of her second hour of practicing. Someone at the door, wanting to talk to her? She couldn't imagine who it would be... 

After carefully setting her cello down on the bed, Mathilde bounded down the stairs and into the living room, where she found herself face-to-face with a strangely unsmiling Albus Dumbledore. 

"P...Professor!" she stammered. What on earth was Dumbledore doing here? Wasn't he always incredibly busy? He surely wouldn't just make a social call to a twelve-year-old girl who had just resigned from his school anyway, would he? 

"Hello, Mathilde," he said. 

"Hello," she said, finally remembering her manners, "Nice to...er, see you again. What brings you here?" 

Mathilde's parents were exchanging somber, meaningful glances between one another, and watching her and Dumbledore intently. It seemed to Mathilde that they already knew something that she didn't... 

"Is something wrong?" she asked, glancing nervously among all of them, "Am I in trouble?" 

"No, Mathilde," Dumbledore said gently, "but I'm afraid that it's my turn to deliver some very bad news; the Ministry of Magic has gotten wind of your withdrawal from Hogwarts, and your reasons for it." 

After a moment's silence, Mathilde prompted, "Yes? And?" 

"And they are of the opinion that if you wish to return to the Muggle world, you are to be treated - by wizarding law - as a Muggle, and that means, I'm afraid, that you, and your parents, must have your memories of your two years at Hogwarts modified." 

"What?" Mathilde cried. Dumbledore nodded at her. "No! I...I have friends, Professor, and I don't want to just forget about them! Can't you explain to them that-" 

"I have tried to," Dumbledore said calmly, "I've spent these last weeks trying to convince them to make an exception for you. They do not agree with me, so I've decided that the best solution open to us is for me to perform the Memory Charm myself." 

Mathilde couldn't see how this was a solution. She frowned at him, puzzled. 

"You see, Mathilde, the officers of the Ministry who are in charge of memory-modification all use the some type of Memory Charm. It's a simple little number, but very thorough when used correctly, and there's little chance of one ever recovering their memory after it's been used on them. The reason I'm here is to perform a different charm." 

"Now," he continued, "the Ministry has given me explicit instructions about how much of your memory I'm supposed to erase, but they haven't told me whether or not the modification needs to be permanent. The charm I'm about to use on you is a bit more...er, complicated than the types that the Ministry wizards use. It should wear off in a little less than ten years, give or take, and you'll have all your memories back. I'm sorry I couldn't do better." 

Mathilde shook her head. "Don't be. I understand. Thank you." 

Dumbledore nodded. "But first, I'm going to have to ask you to hide all of your Hogwarts things. Put them in a place where you won't stumble across them by accident, but you can find them once you remember." 

Obediently, Mathilde went straight to the attic and found her box of Hogwarts supplies sitting where she'd left it. She then searched the walls of the attic until she found a loose panel, which she pulled away, making room for the box. After replacing the panel, she went to her bedroom and fetched the cage that contained a silver-gray owl, which she brought to Dumbledore. 

"Can you give Galadriel to Sirius for me? Ask him to take care of her?" 

"Certainly. Are you ready?" 

Mathilde nodded. Dumbledore pointed his wand at her. 

"Occulto verum castra," _he said. There was a crack, and then nothing._

Mathilde was breathing heavily, and her head was swimming. There was more...she was afraid she might faint under the weight of it... 

It was as if this particular memory had opened a door in her mind, a door that had been closed for eleven years; this flashback had broken the Memory Charm. 

It all came flooding back to her now...The Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft...the letter she'd received from the owl that was outside her window...McGonagall...Snape, the oily git....the Whomping Willow giving her the scar on her head, preventing her from discovering Remus's secret...Remus! James, Lily, Peter.._.Sirius._

It was all so clear now...it _had_ to be true. But there was only one way to find out for certain... 

She must go to the house that had once belonged to her parents, the home that she had grown up in. If it was true, perhaps she would find a large, wooden trunk hidden behind a faulty wall panel... 

But she would not go tonight. Tonight, she would sleep, because tomorrow, if she found what she was looking for, she was going to search for Sirius, and somehow, she would find him. 

* * * * *

The house was so much like she remembered it, and yet so different. She was aware that not a single soul had entered it since their family had moved out when she was fifteen. The windows were now boarded up, the paint that had once been bright red was not a sad, pale brown, and the sidewalk leading up to the decrepit front porch was now cracked and uneven. It wasn't that the house had really gone that much to seed in just the eight years since she'd last seen it, it was just that the image she'd preserved of it in her mind was a glorified picture of what she'd seen as a child of five years when her family had first come to live here. 

It was undoubtedly the right place, though, and Mathilde jerked herself away from the feelings of nostalgia that had been washing over her to remind herself of the task at hand. She knew that there might not be much time, and only prayed that she could find her old Hogwarts things and, with them, a way to locate Sirius. 

The front door was locked, but the hinges were rusty and she managed to kick it open. Every floorboard creaked, and she was reminded that her family had left this house because it had been unsafe enough eight years ago. She hoped that the stairs wouldn't simply give away beneath her feet as she tentatively ascended them to the attic. 

She found the loose wall panel easily enough. She had discovered this secret room in the summer after her first year at Hogwarts, and had used it to hide from her brothers while she did her homework. They had been young when she was attending the school, and unable to keep secrets, so the truth about her school had been kept from them. 

It was a wonder to her now that she hadn't discovered this cubby hole as a teenager. Perhaps Dumbledore had placed a charm on it to see that she wouldn't. 

She removed the panel with ease, and felt a lurch of excitement in her stomach as her eyes rested upon the very same wooden trunk that she remembered pushing through King's Cross Station on her way to platform nine and three quarters. She pulled it out of the cubby hole, opened it, and was met with a series of forgotten odors that should have been evocative enough to break any Memory Charm. 

With trembling hands, she began to sort through the sacred objects, items that spoke to her of the magical world she'd let behind. 

There was a pewter cauldron about the size of a beach ball into which she'd stuffed a pointed black hat and several sets of black robes. Beneath the small stack of the spell books that she had kept was a long, velvet cloak, which, unlike the robes, was large enough that she could probably still wear it. 

She searched a side compartment of the trunk and found a small collection of Chocolate Frog cards, a half-eaten, fossilized Chocolate Frog, and, wrapped in a large, silk handkerchief... 

...her wand. 

Made of a dark, rosy wood that so perfectly matched that of the instrument she played, she remembered that it also contained a dragon's heartstrings, which had always puzzled her. It seemed that dragon heartstring belonged in the wand of a more powerful wizard, one braver and stronger than her. 

She then remembered that at the bottom of her cauldron she had placed the Christmas present she'd received from Sirius in her second year at Hogwarts. 

She pulled out the robes and hat and, sure enough, there was a small white box about the size of her palm, containing a beautiful pendant. It had a chain and setting that could change from silver to gold to match whatever else she was wearing, and the pendant itself also changed colors. It was now a deep green, only it seemed to be green mixed with a silvery smoke that swirled as though it were alive. 

It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever owned. She remembered how much teasing Sirius had had to endure for giving to her, for it wasn't the sort of Christmas gift you gave when you were "just friends". 

Thinking about Sirius brought Mathilde back to the present once more. She decided she would have time to finish going through her Hogwarts things another day. She fastened the pendant around her neck, wrapped herself in the velvet cloak and tucked her wand inside one of its pockets. She also found a leather drawstring pouch which she fastened to her belt. It contained the money she'd made when she sold back many of her unneeded school things after her withdrawal from Hogwarts; it was jut over five Galleons. 

She closed the trunk and returned it to its hiding place. She knew she would have to venture into the wizarding world to find Sirius, but once she was there she wasn't sure what she was going to do. 

Before she had a chance to consider it, though, she heard a rapping noise on the window behind her. She turned around and saw a silver-gray owl hovering just outside the window, tapping on the glass with one claw and clutching a letter in the other. 

Mathilde opened the window as quickly as she could, numb with shock as she stared at the owl. It was so familiar...but it couldn't be...? 

"Galadriel?" she gasped. 

The owl hooted impatiently and thrust the letter at her. She took it, and began to read. 

_"My darling Mathilde, _

If you are reading this letter, it means that you've finally discovered the truth about your past and our years spent together at Hogwarts. 

This owl's name is Archemides, and he is yours. Galadriel lived a long and happy life in my care, leaving behind two chicks. I decided to give you Archemides since he so resembles his mother. I've instructed him NOT to lead you to me; I have no way ot knowing if this letter will reach you before the danger has passed, and I won't take that risk. If I am safe when this is over, I will find you." 

The letter went on to tell her of the rise of the Dark Lord, Voldemort, and the fact that Lily and James were being hunted by him. He told about the Fidelius charm Dumbledore was using to protect him, and his responsibility as their Secret-Keeper 

_"I haven't told anyone how scared I am, Mathilde. I'm sure Voldemort will know that I'm the Secret-Keeper and find me here. Someone very close to Lily and James has been his spy, passing information to him, and I know it's not me or Dumbledore, and Peter has too much loyalty and not enough cunning. That leaves only Remus. _

Remus is my friend and James's friend, and he has been, as far as I can see, true to us ever since we all finished Hogwarts. I do not want to believe that he is one of Voldemort's spies, and I won't believe it until I see proof. However, the Potter's lives are at stake, and I won't take any chances with Remus until this is all over. If he should try to contact you, don't tell him that you are in contact with me. If he is in league with Voldemort, he may use you to find me. 

I hope to God that I will see you again. I love you more than life, more than I can possibly describe on a sheet of parchment. 

Sirius" 

Mathilde lowered the letter and looked at Archemides. 

"So, Sirius told you not to lead me to him, huh?" she inquired of him. 

The owl hooted in what she assumed was confirmation. 

"But you're _my_ owl now, aren't you? Don't you think you should follow my orders before Sirius's? If you're anything like your mother, you'll be willing to take a bit of a risk every once in a while. She was a good owl for someone who liked to have a little fun now and then to own." 

Archemides seemed to be considering this. 

"Whaddya say, Archemides? After all, if you don't take me there, I'll just search until I find an owl who will" 

That did it. The owl flew back out the window and perched himself on the hood of her car. He seemed to be telling to her to hurry up already. 

Mathilde fingered the pendant at her throat, smiling. 

"I wonder if he really thought I'd obey him," she said aloud. 


	6. Default Chapter Title

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Since so many of you have asked, "Occulto Verum" is Latin for "hidden truth". "Castra" means "temporary". :-)_

Occulto Verum - Part 6

She drove for almost two hours, following the impatient, low-flying owl. He brought her far from civilization, away from the paved roads and, eventually, away from any roads at all. They eventually reached a heavily wooded area, but she hadn't driven very far into the trees before they became so thick that she had to leave her car where it was and continue on foot. 

The forest was thick, very thick, and the foliage so dense that soon everything around her grew quite dark. She was no longer able to gauge the passage of time by the sun, which only shone a very little bit through the cracks in the leaves, but it eventually seemed to her that she had been walking for several hours. 

Yet still, Archemides flew on. The forest grew wilder still, and she had to scale small streams and forge her own path. The afternoon had turned into evening by the time the owl brought her to her destination, which was a clearing that contained a very small log cabin. 

Sirius was leaning against the front door, dressed no longer in Muggle clothes, but plain, black robes. His arms were folded across his chest, and he was shaking his head, but he was smiling. 

"Well, we can't say I didn't try," he said. 

Exhausted though she was from her long journey, Mathilde flew to him, threw her arms around him and nearly knocked him to the ground. 

"I'm not leaving," she said. 

Sirius didn't answer. He wrapped his arms tightly around her ribcage, lifted her up off the ground, and carried her into the cabin. 

* * * * *

The sun shining on her face awoke Mathilde the next morning. She blinked, glanced around the room, and suddenly remembered where she was. 

The joy of this realization was coupled with the most glorious, refreshing feeling a night's sleep had ever given her body, and she could not repress a deep sigh of contentment. She stretched her limbs as far as she could, deliciously ridding herself of the lingering muscle cramps that remained from all she walking she'd done yesterday. 

She couldn't remember the last time her life had seemed so exciting. She knew there was mortal danger in her path, but nothing could spoil her mood right now. Thinking of the previous night, she decided she didn't regret anything she'd done the previous day, least of all deciding to bring herself here, into the danger. In fact, she'd rather be here than anywhere else in world, she realized, and she didn't give a damn about any of the consequences, as long as she was with Sirius. 

However, she discovered as she pulled the thick covers away from her face and turned over onto her left side, she was not with Sirius right now; the space beside her was empty. She frowned in annoyance. 

_Ah well,_ she thought, _I'm in his house, so he can't hide from me forever._

But before she had much time to muse over the question of Sirius's whereabouts, she received an answer in the form of the welcoming smells of breakfast being fixed downstairs. 

Although the cabin appeared from the outside to be only a little bigger than the large master bedroom Mathilde had spent the night in, it was, like many wizard buildings, a lot more than it appeared to be. The second story also held a roomy guest room and a bathroom, and the downstairs consisted of a living room, dining room, and a large kitchen equipped with a breakfast nook. 

It was into this kitchen that Mathilde bounded happily a few minutes later, dressed in Sirius's bathrobe. 

Sirius was standing at the stove, his back to her. She came up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. 

"Good morning," she whispered. 

Sirius had obviously been unaware of her presence until she touched him, because he started slightly as she did so, and turned quite abruptly to face her. She was laughing at him. 

"Sorry," he said, "I guess I'm used to being alone." 

"Did you forget I was here?"she asked. 

Sirius smiled. "Of course not. I mean, it's not the sort of thing a guy forgets too easily, is it? The fact that he's got a gorgeous woman sleeping in his bed, I mean." 

She elbowed him hard in the ribs, and tried to slip away from him, but he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her fast. She squirmed in his grasp, trying to tickle him and thus make possible her escape, but he managed to ward off her frenzied efforts by retaliating, and the end result was that they both fell to their knees, laughing so hard they could scarcely breathe. 

They simply sat there for a moment, panting, their laughter dying as a great calm suddenly settled over them. The expression on Sirius's face had melted into a serene smile, but there was sadness in his eyes. He reached out to Mathilde, and gently stroked the soft down of her cheek. 

"You are heaven sent to me, Mathilde," he uttered, "I can't remember the last time I laughed like that." 

He removed his hand, and his eyes drifted away from hers, to the floor. "A lot's changed in our world, now. We're all the prisoners of our own fear, our own sorrow...we only steal moments of happiness, these days." A dark cloud seemed to pass over his face. 

A moment passed. She was just about to reach out to him, put her arms around him, but he stood up before she had a chance. 

"Well, can't let this burn," he said brightly as he returned to what he had cooking on the stove. 

Mathilde was still kneeling on the floor, so he didn't see her shake her head at him. 

* * * * 

"I don't _have_ to let you stay here, you know," he said to her as they ate their breakfast. 

Mathilde resolutely buttered a kipper at him, but said nothing. 

"Just thought you should know that," he added with a shrug. 

"Please," she said, rolling her eyes at him, "I _am_ a grown woman, you know. I can make decisions for myself." 

"I'm not questioning your judgment," he said defensively, "It's just that...well, it's only natural for me to be more concerned about your safety than you are, isn't it? I mean...you can make your decisions, and I can make my mine, and I'm _telling_ you that I'm not going to allow you to be here when Voldemort comes." 

She set her knife down and looked him in the face, her eyes boring through him determinedly. 

"The reason I came," she said slowly, deliberately, "is to be here with you when that happens." 

"You won't have a chance with him, and I might," he said, standing up and sounding slightly annoyed, "I want you to use this when he comes." He was pointing to, but not touching, a small wood-framed clock on the mantel of the dining-room fireplace. "It's a portkey. It'll take you home. Please," he added, as he noticed that her expression was as obstinate as ever, "I'll need you to send word to Dumbledore and Lily and James." 

She sighed and her shoulders sank. "All right," she agreed, "but only because of that." 

* * * * 

He left her alone the next night, though unwillingly. He told her to run for the portkey at the slightest sign of anything strange, and she told him she was smart enough to figure that out already, for heaven's sake. She would probably be safe there anyway, though; Voldemort wasn't interested in her at all, and would only care about him once he held the key to discovering James and Lily, and he wouldn't until after tonight. 

Mathilde wanted to go, but didn't persue the matter at all. As much as she wanted to see James and Lily again, she knew how much danger there would be in bringing her to them when she couldn't apparate, and knew that they wouldn't be in much of a mood for a social call, anyway. 

She took advantage of the opportunity to explore Sirius's well-stocked library (another surprise the tiny cabin held in store) and discovered that it contained not only the usual vast array of spell books, but quite a respectable collection of Muggle classics as well. She found a book of Charms, and brushed up on some of the ones she'd forgotten as well as teaching herself a few new simple ones, surprised to find that they now came more easily to her than they ever had. 

And so several hours passed without her noticing how late it had become, but when she finally did, she began to worry. Should it really take this long to perform a charm? 

But before she had much time to worry, she heard the front door open and slam shut. Certain that Sirius wouldn't think to look for her in the library, she came out to greet him. 

He was sitting hunched over in a hefty armchair in the front room. He looked extremely grim and very tired. She stood there watching him for a moment, but he didn't seem to notice her until she came over to him and sat on the arm of the chair. 

He looked up at her, giving her a wan smile, "Hello," he said, "I apparated outside the front door. I didn't want to startle you." 

She lay her hand on his shoulder, "What's wrong?" she asked softly. 

He sighed. His eyes were no longer watching her, but staring forward aimlessly. 

"I couldn't do it," he said quietly, shaking his head, "I failed them." 


	7. Default Chapter Title

Occulto Verum - Part 7

Sirius was silent then. His eyes were dark, brooding, and not focusing on anything in the room, as though the thoughts in his mind were miles away. 

"Tell me what happened," Mathilde said. There was no plea in her voice, nor any hint of a demand. She felt they had reached the point in their relationship where communication should be expected, and that he wanted to tell her. 

"The Potters will be safe. Don't worry," he said, "I convinced them not to use me as their Secret-Keeper." 

"Why?" her voice was still calm, unemotional. 

Eyes closed, Sirius shook his head again. "I just couldn't do it," he said, "I mean, I thought of myself trying to hold out against Voldemort, against...my worst fears...the worst things I can imagine. I just couldn't see myself making it, Mathilde. How could I let James and Lily put their trust in me when I didn't even trust myself?" 

He leaned forward, his face buried in his hands, shaking his head slowly from side to side. After a moment, he looked up at her again. 

"It's going to be Peter now, instead...Peter is different. They'll be safe with him." 

""Different'? What makes you say that?" Her voice was still calm, but it contained a definite note of concern that echoed the expression of her face. 

"Peter worships James. He's...I'm sorry to say this... he's a rather weak and stupid fellow, but he's true...he's loyal. He was really eager to take the responsibility, in fact. This is his chance to prove himself, I guess, to be important in something. James is his hero. Peter will be able to withstand anything if he thinks it'll make James and me proud of him." 

"It'll be a fine bluff, too," he continued, "With any luck, Voldemort won't even know about the Fidelius Charm, and he'll end up going on a wild goose chase to try and find them, starting by hunting me down. Or if he does know about the charm, he'll think I'm still the Secret-Keeper. Who knows? Maybe I'll be able to hold out, play along with it. Even if I crack, we'll still have one more chance to save Lily and James." 

He slumped back into the chair. "Oh God, I'm such a coward!" he cried in exasperation. 

"Don't do this to yourself," she said firmly, though with a note of tenderness, "Sirius...if you really couldn't do this, I think you've done the brave thing by admitting it to yourself." 

He smiled weakly at her, "It's hard to feel very brave right now. Or particularly proud of myself, for that matter." 

She lifted her hand, which was still resting on his shoulder, to touch his face gently. He reached out to her, put his arms around her and pulled her off the armrest and into his lap. He held her tightly, and for a long time they just remained that way, encircled in one another's' arms. 

"I'm so sorry it has to be this way, Mathilde," he eventually said, " we could be so happy together if it wasn't for all of this." "How much time do you suppose we've got before Voldemort finds you?" 

Sirius shrugged. "Ten minutes? Twenty years? I haven't the foggiest. All we can do is wait." 

* * * *

It turned out to be somewhere between ten minutes and twenty years; a week. "Voldemort won't turn up unannounced, I can promise you that," Sirius had told her, and he couldn't have been more right. 

The week that had passed had not been an entirely unhappy one. Although an oppressive cloud of doom had been hanging forever over their heads, they'd done their best to ignore it. They knew that this could very well be the last week they ever spent together, and they wanted to get the most they could out of every minute. It was a bittersweet sort of happiness that had hung around them as they did their best to escape from their fears and into one another. But every moment felt like an elaborate goodbye, and Mathilde wasn't sure how much more of it she could bear. 

They were just enjoying a cup of tea after supper on the evening of their seventh day together when it happened. Sirius was just in the middle of complimenting Mathilde on the meal she'd cooked when he'd looked up to see her face looking suddenly very puzzled, very alert, and her nostrils twitching. 

"Do you smell that?" she whispered. 

"Smell what?" he asked. 

"Something bad," she said, setting down her tea cup and standing up to have a look around. 

"Where's it coming from?" He also stood up. 

"Everywhere." She was glancing in every direction, looking very nervous. "It's very faint...and it's absolutely sickening...it's not like anything I've ever encountered before. God, it's getting stronger!" 

Sirius could smell it now too, and he did recognize it; it was like rotting flesh. He knew what this meant. "Voldemort," he muttered. 

Then Mathilde screamed, but Sirius followed her gaze and saw that the source of her fear was not the fact that he had uttered the Dark Lord's name. 

She was looking at the window. Outside, there was a dense fog of a putrid green color, thick enough to mask the surrounding forest from the view, and there were images dancing in it. Dozens of grinning skulls stared back at them from within the fog with eyes that danced hideously, seeming very alive. One by one, the grinning mouths of the skulls opened, and serpents slithered out of them; it was a form of the Dark Mark. 

But the snakes that emerged from the fog were not just images dancing in smoke; they were real, and as Mathilde and Sirius watched, they fell to the ground outside the window. 

They both gaped at this scene for a few moments, paralyzed. Finally, Sirius recovered enough to quickly check both the windows in the kitchen, and the windows and front door in the sitting-room. 

"It's everywhere," he told Mathilde as he returned to the dining-room, "it's surrounding the house, and it's trying to get in." 

It was true; however tightly closed the window was, the foul-smelling green smoke was seeping in through the cracks in the frame. 

"The portkey...quickly!" 

Mathilde ran to the clock on the mantle, and reached out to it, but hesitated. 

"Come with me!" she cried to Sirius, who shook his head. 

"He'll follow me," he explained, "he doesn't care about you. Go! Send an owl to Dumbledore, and one to the Potters when you get home." 

Mathilde seized the clock. She had traveled via portkey once before in her days at Hogwarts, and she felt the familiar pull that seemed to center itself behind her navel, and then felt herself flying rapidly through nothingness for an instant before- 

WHAM! 

She felt as though she had flown straight into a wall of ice, and then she felt herself falling... 

But she only fell about ten feet before coming in contact with the polished hardwood of Sirius's dining room floor, and the wooden clock had fell from her hands to smash itself to bits on the floor, giving out a final, thudding chime as it perished. She was back where she had started. The portkey had failed. 

"Shit," muttered Sirius, "he's blocked it." 

Mathilde realized that somehow the thing that had felt like a wall of ice had been the barrier of green fog surrounding the house. The coldness of it was still with her, and she felt sick, weak. Sirius was helping her to her feet as she struggled to keep herself from vomiting. 

"I have to hide you," he said, "In the closet...here!" 

And before she knew it, he had hustled her into what appeared to be a coat closet in the sitting room and shut the door behind her. She immediately discovered and inner doorknob and a keyhole, through which she could see into the sitting-room. 

Sirius stood before the front door, his body rigid and his fists clenched, trying to summon up every last bit of courage he possessed. Would Mathilde have to watch him die here? What if he discovered her? 

The front door flew open with an icy blast, and the hundreds of snakes that had fallen from the green fog slithered inside. As Sirius watched in horror, the snakes assembled themselves together in a pile on his floor, and, crawling on top of one another, coiling and twisting, they built themselves into an intricate formation. It was a grotesque, living statue of a man. 

The statue quickly formed itself from the legs up, and when it was finished, it was replaced by a real man; the Dark Lord, Voldemort. 

"Quite an entrance, don't you think?" he said to Sirius. 


	8. Default Chapter Title

Occulto Verum - Part 8

"I've been practicing that one for quite some time," Voldemort continued, "and I thought I might use it on the Potters, once you've led me to them, but I decided to treat you to a little show instead, Mr. Black, since you're about to do me the kind favor of telling where they are hiding." 

"You seem pretty sure of that," Sirius growled. His heart was pounding furiously and his hands felt clammy, but he knew that Voldemort wouldn't be able to sense his fear if he kept it locked away in the farthest corners of his mind and didn't think about it. 

"Oh, I am, I am," said Voldemort cheerfully, as he sauntered over to Sirius's sofa and sat down. "After all, Mr. Black, you seem a perfectly reasonable fellow, and even if you aren't, I can be rather persuasive, you know." 

"So I've heard." 

There was suddenly a painfully loud ringing in Sirius's ears, accompanied by the feeling the feeling that his head was being squeezed in a metal vice. He fell to his knees, the pain was so great. After about ten seconds, though, it stopped. 

"A mild example of my abilities, Mr. Black," Voldemort said with a menacing smile, "very mild. I don't much like your disrespectful tone, sir, and I expect it to improve immediately." 

Sirius didn't reply. 

"That's better already. Now then," he continued, standing up and beginning to pace slowly around Sirius where he was still crouched on the floor, "I'll tell you something interesting; killing people can be quite enjoyable, Mr. Black," Voldemort went on, "so can torturing them. However, when it comes to recreation, there are more than enough Muggles around to suit my purposes. As far as wizards are concerned, I generally find it in my best interest to make allies of them instead. Therefore, I'm going to make you a rather generous offer," he stopped pacing and bowed his head to whisper in Sirius's ear, "Anything you want, anything in the world. Do you have any idea what sorts of things dark magic can give you that your stupid, weak, good magic cannot? I'm not asking you for lifetime service and commitment, I'm not even asking you to swear loyalty to me or to put yourself in danger from those idiots in the Ministry of Magic. I'm asking you for one small piece of information, and I'll give you anything you desire. I can fix it so no one will ever realize that you betrayed your precious friends..." 

But he stopped in mid-sentence as he saw that Sirius was already shaking his head vigorously. 

Behind the closet door, Mathilde was wringing her hands nervously. _Lie to him,_ Sirius, she thought, _can't you just lie, and then run for your life? _

A cold sweat was now standing out on Sirius's brow, and even Mathilde could see it. His jaw was set, though, and his face showed no fear. 

"Think of this, then," Voldemort said venomously, "I can also offer you life instead of death, Sirius. Don't you think that's a good price for a little secret?" 

"Not quite good enough," Sirius growled. 

"Oh dear," said Voldemort, shaking his head, "it would seem that you're one of those infuriatingly noble types, aren't you? Too bad you refused my offers, Sirius, because you're going to tell me anyway. Only now, you've lost the chance to get anything for yourself out of the deal. Even your life." 

The Dark Lord took a few steps away from Sirius and stood facing him for a moment, tapping his wand against his hand. 

Sirius knew what was coming. He also knew how much Voldemort enjoyed delaying it, letting Sirius's fearful anticipation build. 

Then it happened. Voldemort pointed his wand at Sirius and cried, "_Crucio!_" 

Inside the closet, Mathilde stuffed her fist inside her mouth to keep herself from screaming out loud as Sirius's collapsed on the floor, shaking uncontrollably. He was screaming, too, and it was the most fearful sound she'd ever heard. It was so loud, she thought perhaps it would carry far enough for someone to hear it...but what could anyone do to help him now? 

_Stop it, stop it_, she screamed in her head, _Please stop it. Oh, God help us._

Then, with a tiny flick of his wrist, Voldemort ended it. Sirius stopped shaking, and lay panting on the floor. He groaned quietly. 

"I'll give you a moment to recover your voice, Mr. Black," Voldemort told him, "and then you can decide whether or not you wish to cooperate." 

But Sirius shook his head, and braced himself for the next blow. 

It came again almost instantly, and lasted longer this time. Mathilde turned her face away from the keyhole this time, and began to sob silently. 

This time when it ended, Sirius struggled to raise himself to his feet, but he was so weakened by the pain that he only managed to make it to his knees. 

"No," he said firmly to Voldemort, "No again. And it's getting easier to say 'no' to you each time, Voldemort," he spat out the name boldly. 

"So," Voldemort said menacingly, "you won't tell. Fine. I'll find someone else who will, mark my words." 

Voldemort glanced around the room, and smiled. "This is quite a lovely home you have here, Black. Very lovely....however," he said, moving slowly toward the closet that hid Mathilde, "I think you may just have an infestation of some kind. Yes, there's definitely some kind of ...vermin hiding here somewhere!" 

And with that, the closet door flew open to reveal a very, very frightened looking Mathilde. 

"Just as I suspected," Voldemort cried triumphantly, "you've got Muggles in your closets!" 

Sirius's eyes met Mathilde's, and he wished he could communicate telepathically without Voldemort hearing. He thought quickly; if only he could convince Voldemort that she meant very little to him, that she was nothing more than some stupid little tart he was having a bit of fun with...perhaps he wouldn't try to hurt her to make him talk... Voldemort could usually tell when people were lying, but he wasn't infallible... 

He fixed Mathilde with a sour, apathetic glare. 

"There you are, Mathilde," he said with a shrug, "you're too stupid to run away, and I guess you're too stupid to even hide yourself properly. Well, he's probably going to kill you now, you know. Serves you right, you half-witted tart," he added. 

The look on Mathilde's face told him that she'd caught on to his game; he knew that Mathilde would normally react to being spoken to that way with hot rage and sarcasm, but the look on her face was a hurt one, but without surprise. 

"What a pretty little Muggle plaything you've got here, Sirius," said Voldemort, grabbing hold of Mathilde's arm and jerking her out of the closet, "perhaps she can be of some use to me..." 

"You're welcome to her," Sirius said casually, "she means nothing to me." 

"Perhaps not," Voldemort said, "and I can see you wouldn't put your darling friends in danger for the sake of this thing," he threw Mathilde to the floor at his feet, "However..." He turned to Sirius again. 

"The unfortunate thing about the Cruciatus Curse," he said, "is that its victims are unable to speak while they are under it. Interrogations would be much more efficient with something more than just the _memory_ of pain to motivate someone to speak..." he turned to Mathilde, "My dear, I would like you to provide a voice for your dear Mr. Black, if you please." 

Before Sirius could say a word, Voldemort had pointed his wand at him and yelled, _"Crucio_!" once more. Again, he fell to the floor, screaming. 

"_No!_" Mathilde sobbed, and tried to reach for Voldemort's wand, but she found that her body was frozen. "No, please," she cried, "stop it!" 

Sirius continued to thrash about, screaming. Mathilde found that she could not look away. 

"Certainly, my dear," said Voldemort pleasantly, "once you've told me what you know about the location of the Potters." 

Mathilde continued to stare at Sirius. She had to say something, anything...she had to stop this... 

"Please," she cried, "I don't know where they are! Sirius can't lead you to them either." 

To her surprise, Voldemort pulled his wand away from Sirius and turned to look at her. 

"You're telling the truth," he said, sounding incredulous, "I can tell when people lie. You don't realize what you've just told me, do you?" he said with a laugh. "If your precious Black can't bring me to the Potters, then it means he's not their Secret-Keeper." 

Voldemort threw back his head and emitted a high-pitched, evil shriek of a laugh. 

"Yes, Mr. Black, I know about the Fidelius Charm. I've known for quite some time, now." 

_Then Remus _is _the spy_ Sirius thought grimly, _No one else could have told him that except Dumbledore and Peter. _

"So, tell me, my dear, who is the Secret-Keeper?" 

"I don't know." 

"You're lying! You're lying!" he cried gleefully, "I know you are. Tell me who it is." 

"It's Dumbledore," Sirius insisted. 

"Liar! Ha!" Voldemort cried, "I know who it is! It's Wormtail!" He laughed again. "You fool," he said to Sirius, "I'm not going to kill you after all. No, it's going to be much more fun to leave you to live with your mistake." 

And then he vanished. 


	9. Default Chapter Title

AUTHOR'S NOTE: There's another cliffhanger here I'M SORRY EVERYONE, but I like them. And I promise, Veralidaine, that this will have a happy ending. :-) 

Occulto Verum - Part 9

Sirius had passed out, and Mathilde didn't know what to do. 

"Wake up, Sirius, wake up," she pleaded, shaking him, "I don't know what to do, he's going to find Peter now, please wake up." 

Panicked tears began to form in her eyes, but she forced them back. There was no time for that. What should she do? Minutes passed. 

Then, she remembered her wand sitting on the bedside table upstairs, and fetched it as quickly as she could. 

Returning to Sirius, she pointed it at him and struggled to remember the correct spell.. 

"_Ennervate_." 

It worked. His eyelids fluttered open, and he groaned. 

"How long...?" he asked. 

"You've been out about ten minutes," she replied. 

Slowly, Sirius raised himself to his feet, though every muscle in his body complained to him as he did so. 

"I have to get to Peter before he does," he said weakly. His voice was hoarse from screaming. 

"Oh Sirius, it's my fault! He's going after Peter now and it's my fault." 

"No, don't blame yourself," Sirius said, reaching out to her and encircling her in his arms, "You couldn't help it...you couldn't know. Don't worry. He probably doesn't know where Peter is yet. If I find him first, we can still protect him, and we can still keep James and Lily safe. But I have to go now. I'll be back as soon as I can." 

He kissed her briefly, and vanished. 

* * * * *

"Peter?" 

No response. The flat was silent, far too silent for Sirius's liking. The lights had been neatly turned out in each room, and he'd had to unlock the front door by magic. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary... 

"Peter!" he called again, but there was no answer. He checked every room, and found nothing. Had Peter simply been fool enough to step out somewhere? He'd promised to stay put... 

Perhaps Voldemort had already been here? No, there wasn't enough time, Peter would have put up a fight, there would still be signs of any struggle...unless... 

"Wormtail," Sirius murmured, thinking aloud. Voldemort had said "Wormtail", not "Pettigrew"! Voldemort refereed to Peter by his nickname... 

_Peter_ as the spy... Sirius had never stopped to consider it, but suddenly it made much more sense that he would be than Remus. Of course...when had they ever seen Peter take any sort of a risk for one of his friends? Peter had always just wanted the biggest, toughest friends around to protect him. 

_"I'm not going to kill you after all. No, it's going to be much more fun to leave you to live with your mistake."_

That's what Voldemort meant...it all made sense now. 

And he, Sirius had as good as sentenced the Potters to death in his oversight. 

_* * * * _

Seconds later, he materialized in front of Mathilde, nearly giving her a heart attack. 

"Mathilde," he said, not having time to apologize for startling her, "Peter's gone, and I know what this means. He's the spy, not Remus." 

She gaped at him. "Are you sure?" 

"Yes. I'm positive. I'll explain later. Right now, I need you to send an owl to Dumbledore, and tell him that the Secret-Keeper failed. I have to warn Lily and James...if I'm not too late already." And he was gone. 

Now nearly exploding with nervous energy, Mathilde wasted no time in dashing up to Sirius's study, where she found that his own sleek brown owl was fast asleep, but Archemides was waiting for her. 

She sat at the desk and fumbled for a quill and parchment. With a shaking hand, she wrote; __

Professor, 

The Secret-Keeper has failed. He's the spy. Mortal danger for those he was meant to protect. Please hurry. 

She left the note unsigned and gave it to Archemides. 

"Bring this to Dumbledore," she instructed, "and bring it faster than you've ever flown in your life." She opened the window and the owl flew out. 

What should she do now? She looked at her watched. 10:30. Only an hour had passed since she and Sirius had been having their quiet tea after supper...it felt like a lifetime. 

She was still shaking. She returned to the downstairs and the sitting room. Wrapping herself in a large afghan, she settled down on the sofa and waited. She felt so nervous, she thought she would never be able to sleep again, but in the next hour, her exhaustion overcame her and she drifted away. 

She slipped into dreams almost instantly...she was back in the alley behind the orchestra hall, but this time, it was only her, Sirius, James, and Lily with Harry. There was also an ominous, black-robed figure lurking in the shadows, and although Mathilde saw him, her companions did not, and continued their pleasant chat with her. She knew she had to warn them, before it was too late, but she couldn't... 

Suddenly, Voldemort emerged from the shadows, and waved his hand at Lily and James, who fell down, dead. The child in Lily's arms was crying, and Mathilde ran to pick him up, but as she did so, she heard Sirius calling out to her desperately. She turned to see that although Voldemort had vanished, dozens more hooded figures had emerged from the shadows, and they were dragging Sirius away. Another figure had grabbed her, preventing her from running after him. She felt the child being torn away from her arms. Sirius was still calling to her... 

"Mathilde!" 

She awoke with a start. She was back on Sirius's sofa, and he was shaking her awake. He looked as white as ash, and his face held a look of horror unlike anything she'd ever seen there. 

"Mathilde, they're dead...I was too late...they're dead." 

"Oh, Sirius," she gasped, and threw her arms around his neck. He was shaking, now partly from the sobs that began to wrack his body. 

Mathilde fought through her own tears to say, "Dead...all of them, Sirius?" 

"No," he said, and pulled away from her, "No, Harry's alive. I don't know how, but he's alive, and he's all right. I have to go back for him. I couldn't apparate with him, I have to bring the motorcycle." 

He stood up and made his way out the front door. Mathilde followed him. 

"I'll go with you,"she said. 

"No," he said, "I'll take you home. Remember, you have a concert in three days." 

"Concert," she murmured. She'd forgotten. She'd forgotten everything about her old life, her life as a Muggle. 

She hopped onto the back of the motorcycle. "Hold on tight," Sirius said. Before she knew what was happening, the motorcycle had rocketed into the sky. 

Mathilde gasped, and clutched Sirius even tighter. They were very high now, and traveling very fast. If the situation hadn't been so severe, Mathilde might have enjoyed herself, but as it was, they didn't speak during the ride, and arrived very quickly at her home. 

"Get some rest," he said to her as they landed, "I'll come see you in the morning." His voice was hollow, and his face was still pale and dead-looking. 

He kissed her goodnight, and took off again. 

* * * * 

Mathilde didn't sleep right away that night, for her dark thoughts disturbed her too much. It wasn't until early in the morning that she finally fell into a restless sleep, and she slept very late as a result. 

She didn't even wake up of her own accord. What awoke her was a terrible noise, like an explosion, which made her sit up in bed, every muscle rigid. 

The sound of it was still ringing in her ears by the time she was fully awake. Had she really heard it, or had it been in her dreams? Either way, she knew, somehow, that it was significant. 

The digital clock on her bedside table read 12:27. Where was Sirius? He'd said he would visit her in the morning. Surely he knew that she would be worried if he didn't... 

But there was nothing she could do for it now. She got out of bed, showered, dressed, and went into the kitchen to fix herself some breakfast...or was it lunch? It didn't really matter, since she didn't fell much like eating it anyway. 

She sat on the porch as she ate, staring eagerly at the sky as though she expected Sirius to come flying out of it on that huge motorcycle at any moment. He didn't, though. 

Sighing, she returned to the house, sat down, and idly turned on the television and flipped through a few stations before a news flash caught her eye. 

"Twelve people are dead this morning as the result of a gas explosion in Godric's Hollow..." the anchor was saying. 

Gas explosion. So _that_ was the noise that had woken her up. She watched the broadcast as the screen switched from the news anchor to live footage of a reporter who was standing in a stretch of the town that looked familiar to Mathilde, except for the fact that half of it had been blown away, and there were dead bodies being carted from it... 

"Oh..." she breathed, watching the grisly sight, but at the same time she realized that this particular part of town was much too far from her house for her to hear an explosion as loud as she did...she had dreamt it, and dreamt it at exactly the moment it had occurred. 

It meant something, she knew it meant something. Seizing up her cloak where she had dropped it the night before, she ran from the house as fast as her legs could carry her. 

* * * * 

Sirius stared blankly into the crater that had been formed by the explosion. Deep down, in the sewers, he saw a pile of bloodstained robes resting where they had landed, and as he watched in horror, a rat emerged from them and ran off into the sewers. 

Pettigrew had escaped. He'd escaped, and he'd made it all look like Sirius had killed him, and caused this horrible explosion. He glanced around him. People were screaming, people were dead. 

Here came the Ministry Hit Wizards now...he'd have to explain everything, this wouldn't be fun... 

A cold chill of dread shuddered through his spine as he looked at the group of wizards and realized that they were headed by Bartemius Crouch. 

Crouch pointed at Sirius. "There he is," he growled to the Hit Wizards, "get him. Use any means necessary, and kill him if he attacks you." 

Sirius simply gaped. This couldn't be real, this couldn't be happening. No, he hadn't been visited by Lord Voldemort last night, his best friends hadn't been betrayed and murdered, and he, Sirius Black, he wasn't about to sent to Azkaban for their murders when he'd fought so hard to save them. It was all a dream. It had to be, it simply couldn't be true. Not unless all the forces of fate had conspired against him, had purposefully decided that he should live out his every greatest nightmare. 

Something inside his head snapped, and he suddenly began to find the situation humorous. It all fit together so perfectly, it was so uncanny...somewhere in his mind, he was able to acknowledge the fact the maniacal laughter that was ringing in his ears had emerged from his own throat. He was also only scarcely aware of the fact that he was being bound up magically by thousands of tight, black cords that had appeared out of thin air. Naturally, the cords covered his mouth, making any protestation against his capture impossible. 

His feet bound together so tightly, Sirius fell to the ground painfully as Crouch approached him. 

"Dumbledore got an anonymous owl last night," he told the wizards, "telling him that Black betrayed the Potters to Lord Voldemort. Sure enough, they were killed last night, and now Black's got another thirteen to add to the list of deaths he's responsible for. Question all the Muggles around here, and then wipe their memories. The Ministry'll want to know exactly what happened here." 

Sirius lay there, struggling helplessly against his bonds for what seemed like an eternity while the Hit Wizards obeyed Crouch's orders. Then, from somewhere in the distance, he heard the most welcome sound he'd ever heard in his life; Mathilde's voice. 

"Wait!" she was shouting at Crouch and the wizards, "wait! I know this man." 

"What's going on?" she demanded as she approached them. No sooner had she spoken then Crouch's hand had darted out and grabbed her arm so tightly that she gasped. 

Unable to speak, Sirius emitted a muffled growl at Crouch, who ignored him. 

"You know him?" Crouch snarled menacingly, "who are you? What's your name?" 

"Mathilde Hawkins." 

The instant she had spoken, the black cords had sprung up around her as well, and she fell to the ground beside Sirius. 

"She's in league with him. Dumbledore told me about her. Take them both in, we've heard enough from the Muggles." 

"Now, wait just a minute, Barty," came a voice. Mathilde twisted as best she could and caught a glimpse of the owner of the voice; an anxious-looking man wearing a pinstriped suit and a lime-green bowler, "you can't just send this poor girl off to Azkaban! She doesn't know what she's done, getting involved with Black. Now Barty, you say Dumbledore told you about her, but didn't he also tell you she wrote that letter that condemned Black? This girl's not a dark witch. In fact, she's hardly a witch at all. She's officially a part of the Muggle world, so you can't just ship her off just like that, the other Muggles will notice." 

Crouch nodded sharply. "All right. Then you take her in, Cornelius. But you'd better be damn sure there's nothing funny going on with her before you let her go." 

"You have my word, Barty," the man called Cornelius said, and then he was standing over Mathilde, pointing his wand at her. 

He muttered a charm that Mathilde didn't recognize, and then all was blackness. 


	10. Default Chapter Title

Occulto Verum - Part 10

When Mathilde awoke, she found that she was no longer bound, and she was lying on something soft. She blinked, and sat up. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was after ten'o' clock in the evening. She'd been out for hours. Where was she? 

She was sitting on an old-fashioned sofa in what appeared to be a well-furnished office of some sort. The sofa was an orange-red, the walls purple, the carpet red and the desk in the opposite corner was bottle-green. Pulling a disgusted face, she stood up, and made her way to the door. 

It was locked. 

Cursing, Mathilde banged her fist on the door. Suddenly, she heard footsteps in the hallway just outside; they seemed to be approaching the room she was in. There were voices, too; 

"She's in my office, Dumbledore. Just down the hall." 

"I've brought with me a sample of her handwriting from her Hogwarts days, Cornelius," said a very familiar voice, "I think you'll find that it corresponds exactly with that of the letter I gave you." 

"Thank you, Dumbledore, but that won't be necessary. I believe you already." 

Should she return to the sofa? Would her chances be best if she pretended to be unconscious again. No, probably not...should she hide? Try to escape? She then noticed that the door held a keyhole. She peered out of it, and saw that Dumbledore and the man called Cornelius had reached the door, but had stopped in front of it. 

"I'll tell you, though. It was a bit of a trick to prevent Barty Crouch from just shipping her off to Azkaban with Black. I managed to convince him that she was my responsibility as a Muggle." 

"Sirius Black was sent directly to Azkaban?" Dumbledore inquired, "Do you mean to say that he was not even given a chance to explain himself?" 

_"Explain_ himself, Dumbledore? What's there to explain? You said yourself that Black was the Potter's Secret-Keeper, and that someone has been passing information to Voldemort about the Potter's all along, and now here you are; the Potters have been killed, and so has Peter Pettigrew, along with twelve Muggles. We found Black right there on the scene, laughing, with his wand pointed right at what used to be Pettigrew..." He shook his head. 

"No..." Mathilde whispered. Sirius hadn't told Dumbledore of the switch! They thought that Sirius had killed an innocent man, _and_ given the Potters to Voldemort! It was her fault...she hadn't put any _names_ in her letter to Dumbledore... 

If only she could get out of this damned office and tell them... 

Dumbledore was nodding solemnly. "I suppose you're right, Cornelius. It just took me by surprise." 

"Well, you _are_ a very trusting man, Dumbledore. Don't blame yourself for that." 

Dumbledore had bowed his head, but he lifted it again. 

"So...Miss Hawkins is in this office?" he asked. Cornelius nodded. "I assume you've placed an Unbreakable Charm on the window?" This last question was spoken in a louder, clearer voice, and Mathilde was certain that she saw his eyes flicker to the keyhole momentarily. 

"Well...no, I haven't. But she's still unconscious for hours, and I doubt she'll feel any need to escape even if she should wake up." 

Escape, why should she escape? Was Dumbledore trying to give her a hint? She took no chances, and, seizing a small chair, stood poised and ready to throw it at the window at the slightest provocation. 

"If you don't mind, Cornelius, I'd like to have a private word with her before you perform the Memory Charm." 

As she was no longer standing by the door, Mathilde didn't see Cornelius Fudge reach out a hand to prevent Dumbledore from entering the office. 

"I'm afraid I can't allow that, Dumbledore," he said. "I mean..._I_ certainly don't mind, it's just that I've been ordered not to allow you to. You see, some of my superiors think - and I certainly don't believe this - that you intentionally botched her first Memory Charm after Hogwarts." 

"Indeed," said Dumbledore, sounding amused. 

"Yes, nonsense, I know," said Fudge nervously, "but orders are orders. Now, anyway-" 

He was interrupted by the loud noise of glass breaking behind the door. 

"Damn," Fudge muttered, and began to fumble for his keys. Before he could get the proper one into the lock, however, the key ring seemed to inexplicably leap from his hand and onto the floor. 

"Oh, let me get that for you, Cornelius," offered Dumbledore, who proceeded to stoop for the keys very slowly. 

By the time the two men finally made it into the office, it was empty. 

"She's probably climbed down the trellis," said Fudge, peering out of the window, "it's too dark to see right now, though. I'll get a group of Hit Wizards down there immediately to search her out." 

"Well, good luck in your task, Cornelius. Unfortunate bit of luck Well, I must return to my school, they'll be needing me." Fudge hastened from the room, and Dumbledore sauntered out after him a moment later. 

Another few seconds passed before Mathilde cautiously emerged from her hiding place beneath Cornelius Fudge's desk. She wrapped her cloak tightly around herself and crept silently from the room, and, as it was now very late and the Ministry of Magic offices were now empty, she slipped easily out the back door and back to her home in Godric's Hollow. 

* * * * 

She had to hitchhike back to Godric's Hollow, something she wasn't much experienced at. She managed to get home safely though, and no Ministry wizards accosted her on the road to wipe her memories away. 

Perhaps the Ministry didn't keep very close tabs on Muggle residency, or perhaps they simply decided that she wasn't worth the trouble. Either way, no wizard ever appeared on her front doorstep to perform the Memory Charm that she'd escaped from, and, in the weeks that followed, she learned to stop looking over her shoulder for them. 

But while she was glad that no Ministry wizards ever sought her, she was desperate that some wizard would. Her wand had been taken from her; so had her owl, and she was now left without any way to contact the magical community. No one in the world except her knew that an innocent man had been imprisoned in Azkaban, and he would remain there until someone came to her... 

Surely it would happen soon...surely, someone would question what they had seen happen...someone would still believe in Sirius...Dumbledore, Remus, _anyone_. Surely they would come to her, any day now... 

* * * * *

But twelve years passed, and no one came. 

Mathilde sat at home one night on a rainy evening, and found herself thinking about him again. There was always a little voice inside her head telling her she shouldn't, that it had been twelve years since she'd seen him, he wasn't coming back, and that it was unhealthy to keep thinking about him like this; she should get on with her life. 

_I have been getting on with my life,_ Mathilde thought,_ I do my concerts, I teach a few students I love my work. ,_ She knew what the voice meant, though; _Stop thinking about him. Find someone else. _

She wasn't quite sure where this voice came from. It seemed like the sort of thing one of her friends would tell her...if she'd ever told any of her friends about Sirius. After all, what could she say? "The real reason I haven't dated anyone in twelve years is that my soul mate is locked away in a magical dungeon"? Well, some of her friends might think that she was speaking symbolically, put they'd still try to set her up with someone at every turn. 

She knew she'd rather have her memories and be alone than be with someone else and trying to push these thoughts of Sirius out of her mind. 

Some nights if hurt more than others. Tonight, it was the worst it had been in a long time, but she never pushed the pain away. It was bittersweet, and it warmed her heart at the same time it broke it to be reminded of Sirius at all. Right now, she was going over in her head the night she'd met him at behind the orchestra hall. This was one of many memories she'd preserved in her mind completely, memories that she browsed through every now and then as though they were pages in a scrapbook. 

She found it helped her to have objects that reminded her of him, but these were precious few. She had her pendant, which she now never removed, she had the beautiful blue flowers, which she'd hung upside-down to dry them, and she had the glass unicorn she'd bought in London. 

She'd been trying to practice this evening, but she couldn't. It was one of those times when nothing could distract her from her thoughts of Sirius. These thoughts consisted of the same things they'd always consisted of; reliving all of the time she'd spent with him, trying desperately to uncover any new detail of her memory that had lay forgotten since it had happened and , also, fantasizing about breaking into that awful prison and rescuing Sirius, or having him turn up on her doorstep, or somehow finding her way into the wizarding world and telling Remus and Dumbledore the truth at last. 

Her thoughts made her feel so restless and powerless after a time that she needed a distraction from them. She had been pacing up and down her living room impatiently, but now she forced herself to sit down and turn on the television. 

She half-watched a comedy program, her mind still humming away, for the millionth time, at the prospect of what might have happened if she'd written her letter to Dumbledore differently. 

She watched the news. At a commercial break, she got up and headed into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea, mostly because she desperately wanted some objects to fidget with. 

"Police are on the search for a dangerous escaped convict today," the newsman was saying. 

Mathilde dashed from the kitchen back into the living room in an instant 

_Oh, what if, what if?_ she thought, the way she always thought when watching reports of these kind. She didn't harbor any real hope, she knew, but she still liked to imagine. 

For this reason, her heart almost stopped when she heard the man on the television say "Sirius Black". 

For a moment, she didn't move, she didn't even breathe. 

"The public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous," the anchor was saying, but Mathilde barely heard it. 

Her heart was beating so fast...she was shaking. A shriek of joy escaped her lips. Sirius was free! 

Apparently the magical community had felt he was dangerous enough that the Muggles should be informed that he was at large. That was the only explanation Mathilde could come up with for why she should hear about his escape on the local news. 

A hot line number was now flashing on the screen, and it made Mathilde smile. Did the Ministry really think that a bunch of Muggles could help them nab Sirius when he'd already escaped from Azkaban? Perhaps they didn't know that Sirius was an animagus, a fact that Mathilde was aware of; Sirius had told her all about the exploits of the Marauders when he was catching her up on her lost years at Hogwarts. 

What if he was recaptured? Mathilde's heart skipped a beat at this thought, but she realized that even if Sirius was recaptured, there would be information about him left behind somewhere in the Muggle world, some police contact with a wizard somewhere, and she would find it, and she would find a way to contact the wizard world and clear his name. 

And then, there was a picture of him on the television screen. Mathilde recognized him, but barely. It was more the expression on his face she recognized than the face itself. The eyes were definitely his, but the laughter was gone from them. 

Mathilde felt the prickling of tears beginning to form in her own eyes. She knew what Azkaban was, and for years she had been tormented by the image of Sirius locked in its dark dungeons, alone except for his own miserable thoughts, the only sorts of thoughts and feelings the dementors would allow. The image before her eyes confirmed some of her worst fears, and it made her heart sick. 

Where would he go? Where would he be now? Cold and alone, somewhere in the dark, in the rain, hiding, or running for his life? _Please come to me,_ she willed, _oh please, Sirius, come to _me. 

As if in answer to her prayers, she heard a knock at the door. 


	11. Default Chapter Title

Occulto Verum - Part 11

It wasn't Sirius at her door. It was a pair of policemen. 

One of them was quite tall and dark-haired. The other was shorter and had a mustache. The tall one was the first to speak. 

"Good evening, ma'am," he said to Mathilde, tipping his hat, "Sorry to bother you at this time of night, but we're just a little concerned about your safety. Have you been watching the news lately?" 

"I was just watching it as you knocked, as a matter of fact," Mathilde replied, "Why do you ask?" 

There was a pause as the shorter man glanced at his partner nervously before speaking; 

"Have you seen the reports about the escaped convict, Sirius Black?" 

"Yes." 

"Well, miss, I hate to alarm you, but he was just sighted not too far from here just about ten minutes ago." 

Mathilde did her best to simulate an expression of terror. Inside, she breathed a great sigh of relief; Sirius was nearby. 

"There's more, miss," the tall policeman said, "it was your neighbor, Mrs. Davis, what spotted him. We were just over at her place, and she told us that after she called she saw him slip into your garage through a side door." 

"Oh my God!" Mathilde shrieked, while her heart sang. 

"So, if you don't mind, miss, we'd like to have a look around here." 

"Look around?" Mathilde repeated. Was Sirius aware that there were policeman around, wherever he was? She knew he would be able to avoid capture, but if the Ministry knew that he'd been here, and traced him back to her... 

"Yes, ma'am," said the mustached man, "just to make sure everything's all right." 

"Okay," Mathilde agreed, and started to lead them on a quick tour of her house. As there was nothing in any of the rooms in her house, she brought them out to the garage. 

"I'm afraid I always keep this side door unlocked, officers," she said as loudly as she could as she lead them to the garage, "my dog has a tendency to wander off during the day and not come back before night, so I leave the door open for him." 

They stepped inside the door, and the policeman shone flashlights into the garage. 

"There!" one of them hissed, spotting a flicker of movement in one of the circles of light. 

Mathilde groped for the light switch, and with a _click_, the garage was flooded with light. There was no Sirius Black to be seen anywhere, just a huge, scruffy and dirty black dog. 

Mathilde breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Oh, it's just my dog, officers," she cried, and ran to throw her arms around the great black beast. 

"_That's_ your dog, miss?" inquired the tall officer doubtfully, "What's 'is name?" 

"Uh...Snuffles," Mathilde replied. "Snuffles" was in fact the name of a very fat and stupid hamster she'd owned as a child. 

"He looks like he's been dragged backwards through every hedge in town," said the shorter man. 

"Yes, well...he's been missing for a long time," Mathilde said, "and I can tell you something, officers; if someone untrustworthy like Sirius Black was anywhere near here, Snuffles would know, and he'd tell us. He'd be all on edge, growling like crazy. It makes me feel perfectly safe to have him here, wagging his tail at me like this. I'd be willing to bet old Mrs. Davis just saw Snuffles coming into my garage." 

"Well, it certainly seems as though Black's made fast tracks away from here, there's no doubt about that," said the tall policeman. 

"If he ever _was_ here," said his partner, then he turned to Mathilde, "I'd suggest you keep your doors locked anyway, miss. And give us a call if you notice anything strange." 

"Thank you, I will," Mathilde said, heading back towards her house with the black dog following close behind, "and thank you for stopping." 

"Not a problem at all, miss. Good evening to you." 

The officers tipped their hats to her and began to head back to their car while Mathilde and the dog went inside. 

Once they were safely back in her house, Mathilde watched out the window as the policemen drove away. 

"They're gone," she said to the dog. 

In an instant, the dog sitting on her floor vanished, and was replaced by a very thin, sick-looking man. Filthy, unkempt, and soaking wet, he bore only a slight resemblance to the man Mathilde had known as Sirius Black. He looked up at her. 

"I guess this means you haven't had your memory erased," he said weakly, his voice hoarse, "you have no idea what a relief that is...I don't think...I can run...any farther." 

He collapsed onto the floor, unconscious. Mathilde fell to her knees beside him and, throwing her arms around him, began to sob. 

* * * *

Sirius Black awakened the next morning to discover for the first time in twelve years that he was glad he had done so. 

The first thing he noticed was that he was warm. He hadn't felt properly warm in twelve years, for the dementors filled Azkaban with a sort of a chill very much like the kind you might feel just after getting out of bed on a cold December morning, only it was a chill that never left you, that you never got used to or adapted to. 

He found that it felt strange to be lying in a bed again, with everything that surrounded him both soft and warm. He was very grateful for it, just as he was grateful for the fact that both the inside of his mouth and his body finally felt clean, but it all felt so strange. 

_The nightmare is over, _he _thought, it's finally over_. He certainly felt like he had awakened from a nightmare...an very, very, long and vivid nightmare. A haze had been lifted from his mind, and he was once again capable of cheerful thoughts. The bitter, angry obsessions that had controlled his mind and helped him survive for all those years were gone. Oh, the anger was still there, anger at being unjustly imprisoned, anger towards Pettigrew and a lust for revenge, but these feelings no longer took control of his mind the way they always had. Now, there was room for every happy memory he'd forgotten. 

It was overwhelming, really, the way his senses were now bombarding him with so many details that seemed almost unbearably beautiful to him; the vaguely flowery smell of the sheets on the bed, the colors of the quilt that covered him, the sunlight shining through the window. 

Then there was a knock on the door, and then the most beautiful thing he'd seen all morning entered the room, carrying a tray. 

"Good morning," she said, her voice thick with emotion, "How do you feel?" 

He smiled at her. "Wonderful." 

She stood there for a moment, unable to speak, overcome with emotion. Then, she strode over to the bed and set the tray aside on the bedside table. Sitting down on the bed, she threw her arms around Sirius and kissed him. 

The kiss didn't last long, though, for they had too many words they needed to share. 

"Oh, Sirius," she whispered, still hugging him tightly, "I thought I'd never see you again." 

She pulled away slightly, just enough to stroke his now gaunt, colorless cheek. "What have they done to you, Sirius?" she gasped. 

He smiled weakly at her, "A lot less than they do to most people," he said, then he looked at her, "You're so beautiful," he said, "I'd forgotten...I mean, I couldn't help but forget..." 

He trailed away, and shook his head. "Never mind," he muttered. 

Mathilde placed a hand on his face again and forced him not to look away from her. 

"No," she said gently, "No, don't keep anything inside, Sirius. If you don't tell me, who are you going to tell?" 

Sirius nodded very slightly, but it was a long moment before she spoke. "I tried so hard to think of you...but sometimes I couldn't even remember your name. I would remember...you getting angry with me...or people hurting you...but that's all. That's all I could remember about you...in twelve years." 

For a moment, she simply stared at him, a look of horror on her face, then she embraced him again, overcome. 

"It's all right," he reassured her, "You have no idea what's it's like now, being back here again. I swear I've never felt this good in my life." He held here for another long moment and then she recovered herself. 

"Oh," she said, and reached out for the tray she'd brought him, "lunch." She set it down on his lap. "It's not much, just some soup and a sandwich. I mean, I think you should take it easy right away." 

"Lunch?" he said, sounding puzzled, "what time is it?" 

"Noon," she replied, "which means I had time this morning to pop out and get you something else to wear." Sirius realized he was dressed in the same under shirt and shorts he'd always had on, only they were clean, now. 

He started on the lunch, and found himself almost surprised to discover that it was possible to take pleasure in eating again. Mathilde sat on the bed behind him, running her fingers through his long, dark hair as he ate. 

"I like it this way," she said. 

He shrugged. "I don't think it suits me. It's hard to tell right now, though, as I don't quite look myself." 

Mathilde wrapped her arms around him and leaned against him a little. A question began to form in her mind. 

"Sirius," she said, "whatever happened to little Harry?" 

"Oh!" he exclaimed through a bite of sandwich, "I'm sorry! There's so much you don't know yet. I'd forgotten." 

Sirius finished chewing and swallowed before he began. "Harry," he said, "well, I went to get him, and I met up with Hagrid, you remember Hagrid?" Mathilde nodded. "Well, Hagrid had been sent by Dumbledore to get Harry and bring him to his aunt and uncles. Muggles," he explained, "Lily's sister and her husband. I've never met them, but I don't think Lily ever got on very well with her sister. Anyway, I tried to convince Hagrid to let me take Harry, but he told me Dumbledore had forbidden him to. If I'd been thinking clearly, I would have gone straight to Dumbledore then and told him the whole story," he said bitterly, "But I gave Hagrid my bike, thinking I'd explain to Dumbledore later. I suppose I'm rather stupid when it comes to things like that...and then I went after Peter." His face grew very dark. "I should have known he was making it easy for me to find him. He led me right into the middle of town, screaming for everyone to hear that _I'd_ betrayed Lily and James and then..." he paused for a moment, "I guess I wanted to kill him, but I lost my nerve, and just sort of sat there with the wand pointed at him. You see, I've never killed anyone before, and I just couldn't quite do it. Well, he didn't waste his chance. He had his wand hidden behind his back, and he just blew the whole street to kingdom come. Killed twelve people. Made it look like I'd done it." 

"Did Peter die in the explosion, then?" 

"No! He's-" Sirius stopped in mid-sentence as he made a motion as though to reach inside his robe pocket, only to be reminded that he wasn't wearing his robes anymore. 

"Oh," he said, "where are the robes I was wearing?" 

Mathilde fetched the ragged thing where she had draped it over a chair the night before, and handed it to Sirius, who reached inside one of the pockets and pulled out a piece of a newspaper. 

"There," he said pointing to a picture in it, "he's alive. He's been posing as a rat all this time, and this family's been keeping him as a pet. This boy," he said, pointing to the youngest boy, the one with the rat on his shoulder, "goes to Hogwarts. He's Harry's age. If he and Harry are sleeping in the same dormitory, Peter could transform again at any moment and kill Harry. So that's why I broke out," he said, and laughed, "among other reasons, anyway. I've got to go to Hogwarts and get a hold of Peter. Then maybe I can clear my name with Dumbledore at least. Oh yes," he added, "I've seen Harry, too. I met up with him at his aunt and uncle's house, as a dog. I think he was running away, for some reason. It was at night. I gave him a pretty good scare, too," he said guiltily, "He ran out into the street and nearly got himself run over by a bus. But he looks _exactly_ like James, Mathilde, except for his eyes. They're like his mum's." 

Sirius sighed. "Poor Harry," he said sadly, "I wonder if he knows anything about me. I wonder if he thinks his godfather murdered both his parents." 

A great pang of guilt suddenly formed itself inside Mathilde's stomach. 

"Sirius," she said, "it's my fault you got sent to that awful place. It was the letter I wrote to Dumbledore, saying the Secret-Keeper was the spy..." she was near tears now, "I didn't know...I didn't know you hadn't told him. I thought it would be the safest if I didn't use any names, in case there was someone trying to keep the letter from getting to him. It's my fault...will you ever forgive me?" 

"Hey," he said, wrapping and arm around her shoulders as she began to cry, "it's not your fault. Believe me, Barty Crouch would have sent me to Azkaban with or without that letter, and apparently, that letter's the only thing that kept you from getting sent there along with me. If there's anyone at fault, it's me for not telling Dumbledore about the switch, or at least telling you that he didn't know." 

He pulled his head against his shoulder and stroked her hair gently. "We can't blame ourselves for not acting on knowledge we don't have," he said, knowing full well that he'd never be able to follow his own piece of advice. 

* * * *

He told her the next morning that he'd have to leave her as soon as he felt strong enough to travel again, and than time came a week later. She didn't argue with him; she understood why. 

"I wish you could stay, you know," she said to him, "or that I could come with you. If there's ever anything else I can do that might help you, not matter how risky it might be for me..." 

"I know," he said, "I wish I could promise you that I'll keep safe and keep from getting caught and come back to you, but I just don't know." 

She looked at him sadly, and took his hand in hers. "Then just promise me you'll take care, all right? Don't take risks you don't have to. I want you back again as soon as possible, you hear me?" 

"I hear you," he said gently, "and I promise." 

A very meaningful silence passed between them, then, before Sirius spoke again. 

"I'm going to have to leave here as exactly as I came, I'm afraid. I don't want any questions to be raised that might connect me with you." 

"I guess you'll have to put this back on, then," she said. She was lifting up the filthy robes he'd arrived in. "I'd offer to wash it for you, but I think it would just disintegrate." 

Sirius laughed a little at this. 

"You'll be gone tomorrow morning, then?" 

He nodded. "Tomorrow morning. Early." 

"You'll wake me before you leave?" 

"I promise." 

* * * * *

Mathilde watched as the last lingering rays of the beautiful pinks and golds of the rising run faded into the morning sky. She also watched the huge black dog that was Sirius as he disappeared from her sight over the horizon line, stopping once more to turn around and look at her before he did so. 

"Farewell," she whispered, "Farewell and godspeed." 

She wondered when she would see him again, and realized that it wouldn't be very long. 

She wouldn't allow it to be very long. 

THE END

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so that's the conclusion of "Occulto Verum", but not the end of this story, I don't think. Mathilde's come to life in a way I don't think I expected her to, and I want to continue with her story, and, yes, bring some more familiar faces into play as well. I'm doing some brainstorming right now, but you can probably expect something new...sooner or later. :-) 


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